Sun
by Abbatemarco
Summary: A ghost in the past, two rogue scientists, and an Assassin with more than just a promise. When all the threads come together, who will be left standing in a world of lies and test subjects?
1. I: The Road Ahead

**Note ~ **I do not own any part of Assassin's Creed or ipods. :P

**WARNING: **May contain spoiler for those of you who have not beaten Assassin's Creed (The first one)

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"Wait! But this is a game! You…You're not real! Heck, I'm you!"

Altair shifted his weight uncomfortably, irritated. "Are you going to continue on with these mad rantings or are you going to tell me what you're doing here."

"I…No, you have to listen to me! Something terrible must have happened! How in the heck could I end up inside a game?"

"This is no game, girl!" Altair snapped, planting both hands squarely on my shoulders. "Now what are you doing in my quarters?"

I stared him straight in the eyes, or at least at the little glimmer of reflecting candle flame that I could see in them. The room was light enough, but his eyes were mountainous voids of crimson mud with insignificant pupils hiding somewhere in their middles. He was so real. All of it was. But how?

How could this be happening? I had been absently diddling about in Assassin's Creed, climbing towers and synchronizing view points. How did that lead to…to this? Altair, the master assassin, the fictional character, staring right at me through those incredible dark irises in the midst of his own quarters at Masyaf. I could smell the faint twinge of incense drifting through the cool, shrouded chamber. I could hear the "ting" of blades clashing against each other in the training circle outside. I could taste the cruel desert sand crawling down my throat. But most vivid of all, I could feel this reality. It was true, as true as my own heartbeat. This world was alive.

I blinked, "I'm not where I'm supposed to be."

"I'll say," Altair mumbled. "I'm going to ask once more. Why are you in my quarters?"

_Why can't he tell that I'm not from this…time? Can't he see my clothes?_

I tilted my face to scrutinize my appearance and gasped in horror, for over my body draped a thick, coarse robe, obviously designed for some desert practicality that I was unaware of. My hands began to shake uncontrollably as I raked my brain for an explanation, a memory perhaps, anything that would set my heart at ease.

Finally, it came to me. A dream. I must have been dreaming. This was simply not real and would go away as soon as I woke up.

"Of course!" I laughed aloud. "Goodbye, Altair. I will wake up now."

I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on consciousness with all the enthusiasm I could muster. A minute passed. Nothing. Another minutes slid lazily by. Still Nothing. I opened my eyes, incredulous grief compelling my knees to betray me, sending me to the floor with a quiet, hopeless thump.

"I'm not from this world, Altair…" I whimpered.

He knelt beside me, annoyed. "Is this more of you madness speak?"

"No," I breathed, imprisoning his arm in my grip. "Listen, please…Just listen."

He gazed at me for a long time before nodding resignedly and wriggling his arm free of my grip.

"I am not from this time," I continued, more to myself than Altair. "I am from the year 2010. That must be what…one thousand years in the future?"

"Nine hundred," Altair murmured, obviously not believing a word out of my mouth.

"This world of yours…your reality. It's a game in my world. It's a game that people play all over the world. People play your role in your life's missions and experience all of the things that you did as an assassin. I…I know how this must sound, but it's true, I swear!"

"A game? My life is a game in…your world?" Altair pondered, anger building in his throat.

"No…er yes…Listen, I know it probably seems like I'm just another madwoman walking the streets and I wandered into your quarters for some unknown reason, but I really am from another world!" I looked around frantically, desperate to find some evidence of my claims.

Altair brushed his chin and nodded, "Can you prove it, madwoman?"

I would have laughed at this in any other situation, but right then I could find nothing humorous about life at all.

Suddenly, an idea caught my tragic thoughts.

"I can! I can prove it!" I whistled.

I reached for a pocket in my robe and gasped. It was still there. I slid a black, boxy object from the pocket's depths; my ipod. I flipped open its case and turned it towards Altair hurriedly.

"What is that?" he asked, unfazed.

Then, when I turned it on and the little square screen lit up on his startled, dusty face, he screamed and leapt backwards, shrieking harsh arabic at the small contraption.

"This," I smiled, "is called an ipod. It is technology from my world. This proves my story. I am NOT from this time."

Altair caught his breath and glared furiously into the dull blue light, then nodded very slowly.

I shut the black leather case and stuffed the device back into my pocket. He believed me. Now maybe me could help me get out of here.

"Will you help me go back home?" I proposed quietly, allowing him to calm his frantic heartbeat.

Altair leaned back on his palms and thought for a moment. I mused how the game hardly did his features any justice. His skin was a prominent copper brown, clad is his fine arrangement of weathered assassin robes. Several small pouches and knives lined his belt, which bore a simple red flag to signify his rank. A sorry lost digit haunted his left hand, where a blade lurked in the shadows.

He was a truly beautiful creature, yet somehow his lure seemed marred by a guardian of sorts, constantly keeping him in its sights, thus painting a lone, tortured look in his eyes. Nevertheless, over top of this sadness blazed a harsh sincerity that one could practically smell on the man.

"I don't know how I will be able to help you," he finally said, still a little uncollected. "But I will protect you while you are here in…my world."

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled. What did me mean protect? Who would try to kill me?

"These times that you were blessed as to have been thrown into are perilous. If you have played through my life then you must know this."

I nodded, "But I haven't played through this part of your life. I don't know what happened to you after you killed Al Mualim. That's as far as the game goes…"

Altair cringed, remembrance clear in his expression. "I…I did not destroy the Templar treasure…"

"I know…" I whispered, not wanting him to lapse into an emotional episode. Not that he was prone to them…or so I thought. I had never actually known him in person, as he isn't…wasn't real.

He shook his head, "Malik has taken Al Mualim's place - "

"What?" I asked, startled. "Why Malik and not you? You were the one who killed all of the templars! You were the one who saved the world!"

Altair shot me a challenging glance, "Malik is best suited for the position. There are many more Templars who draw breath still. With his missing arm, Malik is in no way capable to continue the fight as the rest of us do. So, I have decided to pursue these living perversions as long as my youth will aid me. Maybe one day I will take Malik's place and guide the brotherhood."

"So what exactly would you be protecting me from?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"There are many who would try to kill you in this place simply because they hunger for violence. I will ensure your safety until you are able to return to your…umm…time."

"Why? Why are you willing to watch out for me?"

"Because I would like to see you home safely. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be separated in such a way. It only seems just to help you."

_So he really does believe me…_

I hesitated, "Thank you. But…now I have to find out how to get back."

"Yes…I suggest we visit all of the major cities that I have gone to. Perhaps you were brought here because of a connection to me."

I nodded. It seemed like a good idea. After all, I was only familiar with the cities that Altair visited in the game anyway, so why else would I have been brought here? There must be a reason. Something to do with the game maybe…In any case, I was not about to sit around in Masyaf all day and wait for some sign that I was going home soon.

"The cities in the game were Damascus, Acre, and Jerusalem. Arsuf was in the end but I doubt that one has any significance."

"Nevertheless, if we find no answers in the other three, that is the first place we will head."

"You know," I mused. "You're taking this whole game and future thing pretty well. Better than I would if I was in your shoes anyway."

Altair turned and gazed out towards his room's balcony absently. "Best not to get upset about it," he said calmly. "The sooner you get home, the sooner I can forget you were ever here."

His words split something inside of me, though I could not understand why. Why did I care what he thought? He was right, after all. It was best just to get home and forget this ever happened…But then, why was I sent here in the first place? Why would it be so simple to just get home and banish this experience from my thoughts? No. I just could not believe that. There was more to this. I was sent here for a reason. There would be no forgetting this event anyway. Altair had seen an ipod, technology from nine hundred years in the future, and I had seen….Well, I had seen _him_.

"So," Altair interrupted. "How come you are dressed appropriately, yet you still possess that…device?"

His question puzzled me, for I did not know the answer myself. I did not know the answer to a lot of things it seemed.

"I don't know…" I finally said. "Who…or whatever did this to me must have had some sort of plan…They wanted me to keep my technology…but I don't understand why…"

Altair stood and brushed himself off with one quick swipe, "I must go speak with Malik. Stay here until I return."

"What? What are you going to tell him?"

He simply ignored me and disappeared from the room.

I shrugged and allowed my gaze to caress the sweet exotic grooves of the room. Hand-painted vases occupied the corners and crevices, filling the small chamber with tiny glints of color when the sun struck upon them. There were pillows with strange stitch work clustered across the floor, each one smiling up at me, beckoning me forth. The room's balcony looked over a glorious mountainous landscape with little pockets of palms tickling the rocks at their bases. And most magnificent of all was the sun. It's blinding aroma engulfed the room and seemed to take with it one's life energy when it disappeared behind the clouds. So sweet it smelled. I had never seen such a sight, and despite myself, I began to feel a soft peace overcome my tense muscles. For a moment, it seemed like I would be going home immediately and I would see my family again. All of this would have been dream…But that was only for a moment.


	2. II: Caught in the Peril

"Master! The Templars have breached the city gates!" cried a flustered apprentice.

Both Malik and Altair turned to the lesser assassin, an expression of utter disbelief present on their faces.

"What?" Malik choked. "Mobilize the Eastern flanks and evacuate everyone to the fortress! We must not let them reach the treasure!" He gripped the bronze urn on his desk that was home to the Piece of Eden. "I will keep it here with me. Altair, go and help the others."

Altair nodded quickly and sprinted for the courtyard. By the time he arrived at the stronghold's gate, there were already dozens of Templars rushing up the hill below. They slaughtered any citizens who stood in their way, filling the grainy air with shattering screams of the damned.

"Go! Go! GO!" an assassin cried at the gate, pushing the last surviving innocents through to the courtyard.

Altair shoved his way through the crowd and out the gate. His exit was followed by a quick jolt of a lever and the harsh crash of the iron barrier sealing off the fortress. He ran down the dusty hill ahead and unsheathed his sword as a bloodthirsty group of Templars raged towards him.

With the swiftness of a shadow, Altair parried with the Templars until he could waste no more time. They were stalling him, never actually coming at him with a full-on attack. But for what? What were they waiting for?

Finally, he cut through their bluffs and felled them all, a measly total of six armored men spilling over with scarlet in the sand at his feet. Perplexed, he peeked over the hill to get a better look at the city below. Why weren't they coming for the fortress? They were staying at the base of it, ransacking homes and parrying with the assassins who defended the hills.

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My sightseeing was interrupted by the cruel sound of suffering from the city below the assassin stronghold, immediately followed by the echo of nervous feet and swords fluttering through the halls outside the room.

I lay my hand upon my chest to soothe my aching heartbeat. The fortress was being attacked. And this time, it was not a game. There was no resynchronization. There was no going back. I was mortal. Vulnerable. I knew nothing of combat or hiding from Templars. That had always been Altair's job, but where was he now? What about his promise to protect me?

But wait, it was his responsibility to protect the city. He was not my personal bodyguard. I shook my head and looked around the room for an object that I could use for bludgeoning. Best to be prepared, just in case the Templars infiltrated the fortress.

"Well, what do we have here?" a husky throat sneered.

How could they be in already? I looked up unwillingly and met the hungry gaze of a dark, lightly armored man. His complexion was marred by deep scars and burns. His stance sang about battles won and innocents killed. My stance, on the other hand, was hardly a stance at all.

My legs rattled violently as fear swam through my veins and locked all of my muscles. This man was going to kill me. This was it, though I never imagined myself dying by a _Templar's_ hand. This was not happening. It just could not be happening.

The man squinted wryly, "Where are you from, girl?" As he asked, he took one wide step forward, closing the gap between us.

I stuttered madly, "I…I-I-I-I am f-f-f-from-"

I was panicking, desperately skimming the now darkened room for _anything _that would stall this man. How had he managed to sneak into the stronghold without any assassins spotting him? Was he alone? Questions swirled through my frantic thoughts as tears welled up in my eyes. I was so helplessly alone.

"The Northwest? Are you from England?" he persisted.

Why did he want to know where I was from, anyway? Was it my skin? It was pale, but there had to have been some people in Masyaf who where pale too. What was he up to? I stared at him, my body spasming nervously.

He smiled, "Good. We do not see many of your kind here. You are quite the rare bird, my dear." His accent was horribly sinister and I could feel bile building up in the back of my throat.

Suddenly, a loud voice rang out from the doorway; Malik.

"Templar!" he bellowed. "Come to steal the treasure as your comrades have?"

There was something terrifying in Malik's tone. Blood was spattered on his robes and he held a short glimmering blade in his only hand.

The Templar gasped and wheeled around to see the intruder. "What is this?" he cried. "What have you done to my brothers?"

"What does it look like, you kalet?" Malik hissed.

The Templar shifted his feet, making a split-second decision. He grabbed my arm and pulled me in front of his body like a shield.

"Let me through!" he demanded. "Or she dies!"

Malik gritted his teeth so hard I thought they would surely fall out of his mouth. I was too shocked to truly comprehend what was happening. I was a hostage. This man was going to use me to get away. Then what?

Instead of charging and jamming his sword through me to get to the Templar as I had prayed, Malik backed away from the doorway and glared furiously at the man.

"No!" I pleaded. "Malik, you can't let him get aw-"

I was interrupted by a the tough hilt of a sword coming down on top of my skull. My vision faded painfully and I drifted into cold unconsciousness.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"They are retreating!" an assassin announced jovially.

Altair looked around him. The boy was right. All of the Templars were running for Mayaf's gates, their weapons abandoned in the city behind them. He scratched his head, confused. The entire attack had been so strange and out of place. The Templars were after the treasure, yet they never breached the fortress.

As his mind wandered, Altair sheathed his blade and headed back up the hill, certain that Malik might have an idea of what had transpired.

"Brother!" a familiar voice called.

Altair squinted in the sunlight to identify the dark shape racing towards him. It was Malik.

"What is it, Malik?" he asked, surprised.

"They have her!" Malik yelled, panting fiercely. "One of them took her hostage and knocked her unconscious!"

"Who? Who did they take?" Altair's mind had not fully left the focused blaze of combat, so he was utterly dumbfounded as to Malik's meaning.

"The girl from the other world!" Malik breathed as he reached Altair. "She must not be allowed into their hands. There's no telling what they'll do with her technology, Brother."

Altair pressed his fingers to his brow, "What if that was why she was brought here in the first place? What if the Templar's are behind it, Malik?" He paused his hurried questions and glanced back at the city gates. "I'm going after them."

"Safety and peace be upon you, Altair."

"Same to you, Brother. Keep the treasure safe while I am away."

With this, Altair rushed for Maysaf's looming wooden entrance. By now, all but a few straggling Templars had fled, but they could not be too far off. Altair hoisted himself onto a muddy white horse tied up outside the gates and galloped down the long stretch of cliffside that was the road to Masyaf, constantly reassuring himself that the Templars were close enough to catch.

But his chances were slimmer than he hoped and he knew it. The invaders had come on horseback, and from what he knew about them, the Templars would be equipped with only the strongest, most able steeds. As he strained his eyes towards the horizon, Altair knew he was right. There was no sign of anyone ahead, save the odd group of travelers or missionaries stopping for a rest under the palms.

Still, on he trudged, determined to stop his enemies from getting hold of powerful knowledge that could mean the beginning of their new world order. He would not let that happen. He couldn't.


	3. III: Alone

"…behind us…worry…no, she'll…"

I blinked heavily, trying to comprehend the thick voices that echoed from somewhere beside me. Where was I? What was going on?

As my vision returned, the bleary color of desert sand flashed in and out of sight, occasionally interrupted by the smooth legs of a steed. I was on a horse, and there were others riding beside me. But I was not riding. Far from it. I was thrown over top of this creature that carried me, dangling like a rag doll.

I struggled to recall the last few hours of my life, constantly being made aware of the pinching sore on the top of my skull. What had happened? How did I end up on a horse? And with whom?

I turned my head as far as it would go to catch a peek of my companion. Before I could make out the unique marks of his face, he spoke, identifying himself _for_ me.

"Ah, so you are awake, my dear bird."

It was _him_. Unstoppable tears bubbled up at my eyes as all of my memories gushed forth in a mighty unfeeling wave. I had been taken hostage by this man. He was going to kill me. But why? What had I ever done to deserve this?

I could not hold them back any longer. The tears that had threatened to fall shook across my cheeks, propelled by the wind whipping across my face. Where was Altair? Where was anybody? Why was I so alone? Why was it fair that _I _should suddenly be tossed into a world I knew hardly anything about with danger lurking at every corner? And why was that danger so gravitated towards _me_?

As I sobbed, the Templar laughed. It was a cold, strained noise, like the sound of a broken winter storm. If only Malik had killed him while he had the chance, and me as well. Only then did I truly realize that there _were _some things worse than death, and this was one of them.

"We are not being tailed, Husam!" a faceless voice remarked, riding up beside the man whom I was with.

I looked up just in time to see his cape crack open in the wind, revealing a dark cross sewn into its depths. He was a Templar, which had to mean the rest of the riders around me were as well. They must have fled Masyaf…Or maybe they murdered everyone and took the treasure. But then, why would they worry about being tailed?

"Hah!" the Templar beside me laughed. "Why would they try, Brother?"

The other Templar chuckled approvingly, "Those scum! They are cowards! Have to use trickery and words to get what they want!"

"Hah! Hah! The assassins won't last long, Brother! We will crush them soon enough!"

The two men shared their moment of victory with gaudy laughter and vulgar comments. As for me, I was beyond confused. Why were they in such high spirits? I cringed. What if they _had_ gotten hold of the treasure? And what of Malik and Altair? But then, why did they speak as though the assassins still existed?

I groaned and attempted to move, as my legs were tingling with numbness, but as I did so the steed came to a sudden halt, jolting me harshly back in place. All around me the sound of hooves sliding in the sand swirled through the air. Everyone had stopped.

The man who had kidnapped me, Husam, slid off of his saddle and secured his large hands on either side of my ribcage, pulling me to the ground beside him. For the first time, I could see the arrangement of Templars waiting around me. There were at least fifty of them, each with his own notable steed, and each with his own branded cape. It was a sickening sight. I was used to deceased computerized Templars, not standing in the midst of living ones composed of actual flesh and blood. I was terrified.

For a moment I considered running, but my mind was changed for me when my arm was grasped possessively by my Templar captor.

"We will set up camp here for the night!" he roared, so to make his voice reach to the far end of the Templar troops.

With a few quick hand gestures, Husam directed the men around him to use the supplies grappled to their horses to build temporary commendations for the night. One by one, they slipped from their steeds and began to erect plain canvas tents in the dusty valley that extended around us. Beyond it lay an eternity of mountains, over which peered a transcendent golden light, saying its sorry farewell to the people of the Earth.

The glorious sun from before was no match to the beauty that watched from the those darkening peaks. This departing sun shone upon the world like a last memory, saving its grandest appearance for its final moment; its magnificent finale.

As this sun disappeared, it took my life with it. I was going to die, of that I was sure. These Templars were going to get whatever they wanted from me and then dispose of my useless body.

"Come, my little bird," Husam said menacingly. "What is your name?"

I did not look at him. I couldn't. How dare he ask my name? Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had not told Altair my name. I sighed. He would never know it now. I began to wonder if he was alright, an unreasonable tension building in my stomach. I was _worried _about him.

"I said, What is your name?" a familiar voice sneered, yanking me back to Husam's presence.

I turned angrily to face him, a new determination building in my heart. He was scum, all of the Templars were. None of them deserved to know my name. Before I even considered what I was doing, I spat rebelliously at his feet, smiling wickedly as he gasped in horror. His face exploded into a horrible hatred that could have burned his very flesh.

"Sharmouta!" he cried, raising his oversized palm and throwing it across my face.

I stumbled sideways, disoriented for a few long seconds. Suddenly, I felt his violent grip on my arm as he dragged me into one of the smaller tents that had been set up. Inside, there was a primitive bedroll and a number of burlap sacks scattered on the sand. There was no light, save the soft glimmer of a fire burning in the camp outside. The sun was gone.

"If you will not behave like a human being, then I will not treat you like one!" Husam shouted, tossing me to the grainy floor.

I stared at the darkness that was the ground as soft wet rivers cascaded down my cheeks. What had I done? This man was unstable. At that very moment, he was no doubt contemplating the taste of my uncooked heart for his dinner.

"If you try to go anywhere, my men will cut you down like the animal that you are!" he continued, his tone twisted with fire. "I'll be back to deal with you later."

This last statement he ushered from his lips with the same acidity that he had asked my name. I looked up at him, completely hopeless, as he exited the tent dramatically, thrusting aside the canvas door as though it had wronged him personally.

What did he mean 'deal with me'? The only explanations that I could come to where involved torture, death, or a mixture of both. Either way, I had to find a way out. As it became clearer and more intimate before me, I realized that I did not long for my demise as I had originally thought. My thoughts of doom at this camp meant nothing to me now. I wanted to survive. Not under any circumstances did I want that monster coming back to 'deal with me'.

So, I scoured the small tent, tearing open every burlap sack. There had to be a weapon in there somewhere. As more and more of the small coarse lumps toppled uselessly to the sand, I began to lose hope. There was nothing, only small pieces of wrapped food and battered blankets.

I sighed, staring faithlessly at the last jagged sack that lay before me. As I picked it up though, I noticed it was heavier than the rest. There was a distinct "clink" noise singing from its belly as well; metal.

I tore open the stitches that held the rough fabric together and cried out in agony. A witty iron ladle grinned up at me, not a blade. I closed my eyes and took a very deep, very strained breath. I was going to have to rely on nothing but my own agility to get out of here. I was going to have to run. Fast. No sneaking and stabbing with a blade, not that I would have been able to do it anyway, but the thought had seemed promising.

My eyes stretched wide to see in the scanty light, I managed to pick out the shadows of three men patrolling around the camp while everyone else dined around the fire. Three men. One loaf of a girl. Nevertheless, this loaf of a girl could run a million times faster than a fully armored man. Okay, so maybe not a million, but I still stood more of a chance than they did at winning a track and field medal.

I managed to time my exit from the tent perfectly. So perfectly in fact, that I happened to do it just as all three of the patrolling guards were facing my direction. But it was too late to turn back now. I had to start running. Lucky for me, the merciful desert moon glowed brilliantly upon the Templar's horses like a divine guide telling me my next move. Needless to say, I listened.

But my divine moonlight was not the only voice echoing in my ear. The throaty shouts of Templars rose up with the smoke of the campfire. They were chasing me, swords unsheathed. Husam was right. They really were prepared to cut me down the instant I tried to escape.

Well, let them be prepared. All I cared about was mounting the short, copper steed that I had nearly run into in my flight. I had only ridden on a horse twice in my entire life, so I hesitated a bit before attempting to hoist myself up over its belly. By the time I had gotten situated on its saddle, two dozen men were within an arm's reach of me, ready to strike with their blades.

I shrieked and pushed on the horse's sides with my calves. "Giddy up! Please, just go! GO!"

The animal reared suddenly, forcing all of the Templar's back a step to avoid getting kicked. I whacked its reigns nervously for what seemed like an eternity, my heart beating clear out of my chest.

"Please!" I sobbed. "Get me out of here!"

The horse huffed and jerked from side to side before erupting into a violent burst of speed. Once again, I shrieked, completely lost. Unconsciously, I pushed on its stomach again with my left leg, tugging on the reigns. I had learned this a long time ago while riding through a simple course on a simple horse with countless safety precautions. This was much different.

Nevertheless, to my immense relief, my steed leaned left and galloped forward into the black cliffs before me. Soon, the deafening noise of the Templar camp was nothing more than a distant memory, ringing lightly in my ears. It was strange. Why had they abandoned the pursuit? Somehow I doubted that they were fond of losing their captives.

My ponderous thoughts were cut off by the horrible speed of the horse. It was going wild, jerking left and right, losing its balance with random spurts of adrenaline. Being on this steed felt no less dangerous than being trapped in the camp, and I was right.

The crazed animal reared suddenly, throwing me to the hard sand and disappearing into the night. I groaned, staring after it in disbelief. Somehow, a part of me simply could not accept that I was totally alone, stranded in the middle east with no food, no water, and worst of all, no map.

I felt the familiar pang of liquid building up in my eyes, but I held it back. This was no time to cry. I had to keep moving. There was no telling who or what stalked around the valley at night, and I had no weapon.

So I started walking in the same direction I had led the horse, away from the Templar camp. It was definitely a road, but to where, I did not know. Nevertheless, a road would mean people, people with homes and food and directions. That was my motivation. I had to find people.

Never in my life had I experienced such pain. My entire body ached from being thrown by the steed, and my heart pounded with an overwhelming feeling of loss. What had I lost exactly? I had lost my life. I had lost everything I had ever known. I had lost the only man willing to protect me in this hell, and I had nearly lost my will to live. Yet I still hung on to the scraps of it that dangled from my heart. I had to keep moving. There was no turning back. There was no going home. There was only survival.


	4. IV: Split Apart

**Note ~** Thank you so much for the kind reviews! These dangerous chapters won't last forever, so don't worry. :P

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Altair smiled a short, business-like smile when he spotted the distinct showings of a camp being set up in the distance. Rolls of canvas were whipping in the weak sandy breeze and a black smoke rose high into the sunset. The Templars had stopped for the night.

But he could not attack then. He would have to wait until the sun had departed, leaving him an abundance of friendly shadows to maneuver in. Nevertheless, there was something sickening about sitting idly by while the Templars had their slimy hands all over an innocent person.

Altair was used to jumping in immediately to save the day when they were shaking down citizens to do what their masters desired. This time was different. There was no telling what they were doing to that girl right then, and yet he still had to wait. Damn that sun. If only it would set faster.

But assassins had to be patient creatures. Altair breathed steadily and directed his steed to a nearby palm. If he could not go and confront them, he could at least observe them from this distance.

Almost mechanically, he slid from the horse's saddle and gazed out towards the developing campground; the developing torture ground for that girl. He shook his head. Focus. He had to focus. But how could he focus at a time like this? Because he was trained for that kind of thing. So why was he suddenly a fish gasping for air? Why could he not _focus_?

Finally, Altair desperately called upon the most basic rule of his assassin training. Granted, it was a rule of beginners, those who had not found what it was to be a true assassin. Those like Altair when he had first encountered Robert de Sable in Solomon's Temple. It was the rule of sterility, of absolutely no emotion. It was the rule that whispered in his ear, 'there is only the kill'. It was a sinister rule, one that blinds from the truth, but sometimes it was necessary.

And so it was this rule that Altair welcomed into his heart with considerable caution. He had no desire to lapse back into the man he was back then, the arrogant murderer who had gotten Malik's brother killed.

He closed his eyes and listened, not to the quiet desert wind, not to the tired scuffling of the horse behind him, but to the hearts of those who breathed at the Templar camp. He knew what he was up against; fifty or sixty heavily-armored men. Nevertheless, he twitched his left wrist in and out, testing the mobility of the blade that smiled from within. What were a group of battle-worn Templars to an assassin cloaked in the night's sweet embrace?

An hour passed groggily on, saying farewell to the sun in its final minutes. It was time. The golden light of the mountains was no longer present to aid Altair's Templar foes.

He hitched his horse to the palm with deliberated looseness, so as to make a quick escape if necessary, then began to make his way towards the now dining camp. Al Mualim had once told him to never hate his targets, and even though the old man had betrayed him, he was right. Altair could hear his old master's aged tone ringing in his ear. Just because he had been a Templar, it did not mean that he had to reject everything the man had said. Altair had shaken off his fury towards Al Mualim months ago. There was no point in dwelling on something that no longer made a difference.

So on he walked, banishing his feelings of hatred towards the Templars in the camp ahead. He would have no time for such thoughts. He had to focus, and that old, worn-out rule of sterility lay partially embedded in his heart to aid him in this.

But maybe there was a middle ground. Maybe there was a way to balance one's emotions to respond to the circumstances. But this was not the time or place to be pondering such things. The Templar camp lay only a dozen feet away.

Suddenly, the small settlement erupted into chaos. Flinching shouts barred down on the tents and swords clanked hastily from their sheathes. Altair hunched instinctively into a defensive position. There was no way that he had been seen, though. These men were going after someone else.

He raked his head around to see what the commotion was geared towards and immediately saw the culprit. It was the girl. Altair could not help but feel a little proud of her for trying to escape. His previous assumption of her complete uselessness wavered slightly as he watched her jump clumsily over a horse's saddle. But now it was his turn to cause some trouble. He had to help her get away.

Altair slid several light throwing knives from his shoulder strap and sent them whistling through the air at the group of Templars that surrounded the small girl. A few of his shots bounced harmlessly off of their armor and thudded to the sand, but eventually a considerable number of the angry men lay twitching on the ground, blood seeping from their necks.

The girl's horse burst forward out of the perilous camp and disappeared, which seemed to yank a thousand daggers from Altair's heart. She was safe. Now to finish off her pursuers.

He sprinted up behind the frenzied men. Too enraged to be perceptive of what lurked behind them, they made easy targets for his hungry hidden blade. But his cover was gone. All of the remaining Templars abandoned their pursuits and stared with a mix of fury and incredulity at this new intruder.

Altair unsheathed his longsword and planted his feet lightly in the sand, a unique buoyancy overcoming his stance. One after another the hyped troops swung at the squirrely assassin, never able to land a direct blow on his fluttering limbs. But his luck could only last so long.

Eventually, one of his attackers caught him by surprise, ramming into Altair's back with his steel-covered forearm. The startled assassin fell forward with a heavy loss of balance and made an easy target for the rest of his surrounding foes. He scrambled to his feet, constantly trying to avoid the ringing of metal that swished past his ears. They were too much for him. He had already distracted them from going after the girl, now he had to get away as well.

As he ran from the camp, trying to pick out the shape of his horse in the darkness, a sudden pain rippled through his shoulder blade, knocking him forward unexpectedly. An arrow. So they were better shots than he had counted on.

A string of arrows fell to the sand beside his crippled body as he continued to press towards his horse, his right arm numbing a little. They could not see very well in the dark, so the majority of their shots ended in failure. Nonetheless, their attempts successfully drilled enough adrenaline through Altair's veins to get him moving faster and faster through the shadows.

His horse sniffed the air around it nervously, threatening to run away in fright at any moment at the commotion. But the assassin was fast. He was almost to the steed and ready to jump on when another arrow plunged into his calf, sending him into the sand at the animal's hooves. He cried out in outrageous pain and looked back anxiously at the camp. There was a barrage of shadows knocking more arrows from the safety of the tents. Pain could wait. He had to move.

Altair climbed awkwardly onto his horse by the merciless grace of God. That feat of mounting was all he had left in him. As his blood leaked from his wounds, his strength followed accordingly. He directed his horse almost instinctively backwards, towards Masyaf. If the girl had been smart, she would have gone the same direction. The assassin fortress was the only safe place for her at the moment.

Little did Altair know, the girl had gone the opposite direction. His hopes of reuniting with her along the path were useless and would be soon forgotten. She was not riding to safety on a horse. She was on her feet, alone.

He continued to gallop down the road, constantly on the lookout for another horse, one that carried a small, pale girl. His Templar foes had abandoned the pursuit. They knew that once someone disappeared into the desert darkness, they were a ghost. There was no point in wasting their energy on chasing phantoms.

The moon gazed overhead as Altair continued his search. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. The road was barren, dusty like an old forgotten library, and before he knew it, he was back at the gates of Masyaf. These gates meant many things to him. They were a symbol of home, of rest, of safety. On this night though, they were also something else. They were the last possible location of the girl. If she was not here, then she was lost, along with her technology and her knowledge of the future.

Altair nearly fell off of his horse as his body gave in to his loss of blood. He had managed to ignore his pain for most of the ride to Masyaf, but he could hold on no longer. He stumbled through the city gates and collapsed onto the sand near one of the assassin guards. The guard immediately ran to investigate before calling upon several of his brothers to help him carry Altair to a doctor.

~.~.~.~.~

"Don't worry, Altair. You're going to be alright."

Altair stared at Malik through tired eyes, heavily drawn into thin slits. The doctor, a stout sun-burned man, had removed the arrows from his shoulder and calf without too much difficulty. At least, that was what he had been told. He had been unconscious the entire time.

"I know how it must have felt, Brother," Malik continued, patting his limbless shoulder gingerly. "But you are going to be fine. You are to remain under the doctor's care for a few weeks until you are fully recovered."

Altair was barely listening to him. He was more concerned with flexing his calf, which had been bandaged far too tightly. He was used to pain and the occasional slip-up in fights, but it never stopped making him like a novice all over again. He should have known better than to run straight for the horse. He should have feigned from left to right. So many regrets bubbled through his head, but there was one thought that overpowered them all.

"Malik," he breathed, "Is she here?"

"Is who here, Brother?"

"The girl."

Malik looked around uncomfortably, "Not that I know of. I haven't seen her. Was she supposed to arrive with you?"

Altair did not respond. Instead, he lifted himself from the splintered table that he had been propped upon, wincing as his wounds rebelled against such movement.

"Don't try to get up," Malik warned.

"We have to find her, Malik. She got away from the Templars but I have no idea where she went from there."

Malik paused and thought for a moment. "I see…Where did you lose sight of her?"

"The Templars had set up camp halfway to Damascus."

"Then I will dispatch search parties in that direction. Don't worry, Altair. We will find her."

"How can you be so sure, Malik? There are three cities in that direction."

"Then we will search all three. Whatever it takes to get her back into our hands."

Altair twitched anxiously. "I just hope we find her first."


	5. V: To Damascus

The hours passed, constantly tugging on my legs to bring them down. But on I walked, traversing this long stretch of sometimes-rocky, sometimes-sandy cliffside. There had to be a house or a stable around here somewhere. At least, that was what I had hoped. Now though, I could see nothing, only grainy breezes and a dim, gray sunrise.

This world was so different from my own. Anytime I really started to think about it, a cool fog drifted over my thoughts, making it all seem so much like a dream; a really horrible realistic dream that I could not wake up from no matter how hard I tried.

The only thing that kept me pinned to this reality was the suspicious black device that dwelled in my pocket. That ipod was proof that I was here. It was proof that I did not belong here too. And yet, somehow it did not seem like the same one I had had in my own time. There was something different, something sinister about it, like it was an entirely new mechanism.

"Ho!" a voice called from behind me, followed by the skidding of several hooves.

I jumped, not used to any sign of human life since the Templar camp. When I turned to see just who had intruded upon my ponderous walk, my heart leapt with joy.

Smiling at me from atop a rickety wooden carriage sat a bulky, well-fed old man. He wore no sign of alignment, Templar or Assassin, but instead a striped blue and green robe lined with several leather pouches.

"Hello!" I cried, apt to trust this man solely on account of my grumbling stomach.

"Good day, little lady!" His voice was so young, existing in such bright contrast with the deep grooves of his face and the snowy beard falling carelessly to his chest. "You headin' to Damascus?"

So this road went to Damascus then. I had always liked that city in the game, and I could not help but wonder what it would look like in…real life.

In any case, this man's tone seemed to indicate a proposal, one that I was really itching to accept. "Y-Yes. Yes I am," I smiled back. "Umm…Would you be willing to take me there?"

I continued to smile, inwardly worried that I had read him wrongly and he was not going to offer me a seat in that glorious carriage. But my fear was unfounded.

The old man nodded in good humor, "Come on up, _helwa. _It does not do one well to deny a service to a beautiful lady such as yourself." He bowed cordially in his slouched position.

My head swam with possibilities. I had no idea what I was doing anymore. I only knew that I wanted to go home, and riding to Damascus with this stranger seemed like another stepping stone to achieving that goal.

I hoisted my groggy body up into the welcoming wagon, groaning slightly as my muscles strained painfully. I stood awkwardly for a moment while the old man cleared a space for me in his mess of crates and bags. Was he a merchant of some sorts?

"There we are," he grinned, patting the empty wooden spot beside him.

I plopped down on the pale seat as gracefully as I could, despite my weight threatening to betray me in its exhaustion. "Thank you," I said lightly. "Thank you so much."

Just as I was reveling in my politeness, my stomach rebelled against it and growled heinously. I groaned. I really needed food, but I did _not _ want to look like a beggar, albeit my savior would throw me from his sight and I would be alone again. I wrapped my arms around my abdomen in an attempt to quiet its complaints.

"Ah, are you hungry?" the old man asked, his tone completely devoid of conviction or distaste.

I hesitated, "W-w-well, I…"

"Not to worry, _habiti_. I have plenty of food around her somewhere."

I smiled with immense relief. This man was a godsend! He rummaged through several sacks that lay at his feet until he found what he was looking for. He straightened, holding a small lump in the air to examine in the dull sunrise.

"You will like this," he mused, handing it to me casually. "It may not be what the nobles eat, but it's pleasurable just the same. You won't find any merchants who sell it around here." He smiled to himself and grabbed his abandoned reigns.

I observed the small piece of who-knows-what that he had given me. It was rough, brownish, and smelled like fruity pizza. I laughed inwardly at this thought. That was one thing that I missed immensely, but I would have to do this little dusty lump for now.

"So what is your name?" the old man asked calmly as we started off down the slowly, brightening cliffside.

I stopped mid-bite at his question, debating on whether to continue or not. Eventually, politeness got the better of me, "Sarah."

My name sounded so strange in this world. It was like tossing a bowl of dust into the wind that would be easily swept away. It simply did not belong, and it had been so long since I had heard it last.

"Sarah, eh? My eyesight isn't what it used to be, but I _thought _you looked a bit out of place in this countryside. Am I right?"

I paused, remembering Husam's prodding at where I was from. "I…Yes, I am from England," I lied.

So what if it wasn't true? Who was going to believe that I was from _America_? Nobody here even knew that it existed yet. Well, maybe Altair did after seeing it in the Piece of Eden, but I doubted that he was able to fully comprehend what he saw.

"Ah, England. I have never been, but I hear the weather is…nice," he smiled, keeping his eyes straight ahead. It was obvious that he was not trying to sound ignorant or rude, but I had never been to England either.

"Umm…It is," I said as convincingly as possible, hating the awkwardness of the conversation.

I really wanted to dig into my mystery meal, but it seemed that this man was more concerned with chatting. I had never been one to chat, on account of my uncanny ability to say something that my conversing partner could not respond to, thus ending the get-together on a rather dull note.

"My name is Zafar," he added abruptly, yet still with his unfailing relaxed demeanor. "Named after my father, the Great Zafar of Basket Weaving!" He thumped a free palm against his chest and grinned.

I took advantage of his distracted excitement to finish my long-forgotten bite. While I chewed on the crumbly brown mass, Zafar laughed contentedly at his own joke. The lumpy thing was better than I'd expected but worse than I'd hoped. It had a dry, unsatisfactory taste that only served to make my throat wheeze. Nevertheless, it was food, and I was in no position to be picky.

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, "Are you a basket weaver, too?"

Zafar burst into his young chuckle again, "No, no, _habiti. _I am no basket weaver." He cocked his head a little to look at me through the corner of his eye."My profession is far more rewarding than _basket weaving_."

"Oh," I mumbled, taking another bite of my brown wedge of nourishment. Judging by his tone, his 'profession' most likely involved something illegal, and suddenly my food tasted a little more foul. "What do you do, then?"

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that. It usually has me traveling a lot, which is why I have this carriage. Those damn guards are always trying to take it away from me though. Something about providing transportation for outlaws."

"So, are you going to Damascus on business?" I asked as innocently as I possibly could, not wanting to make him upset.

He turned his eyes back towards the road ahead and smiled, "No. I _live_ in Damascus, the wondrous city of dust and carpet. Why are _you _heading there? It's not often that I see a young woman such as yourself wandering these roads alone."

I froze, not wanting to tell him why I was alone or where I had really come from, "I…I got separated from my horse…I-It was stolen."

Zafar huffed angrily, "Those damn guards! It must've been a rough ride, by the looks of ya'."

I nodded mechanically, realizing that I must have looked like a mess after being tossed around like Flat Stanley across this sandy wilderness.

"Well, no one'll be _ghabi _enough to try to commandeer these steeds, so don't worry."

A crisp silence fell between us, giving me time to 'enjoy' my food as the sun grew larger over the horizon. I was going to be in Damascus soon, but then what? Where would I go from there?

Without any warning, the sun burst bright over the mountains and blazed in my eyes. I flinched a little, but quickly smiled at its warmth, remembering Altair's sun-soaked quarters. Maybe he was looking for me right now. After all, he had promised to protect me. I only hoped he hadn't given up for want of 'forgetting I was ever here'.

My thoughts were slowly banished by the rising light, which made me curiously drowsy. Soon, all that was left of my consciousness was the sound of hooves landing rhythmically upon the sand below. Sleep welcomed me warmly into its arms.


	6. VI: A Fallen Angel

**Note ~ **I'm really taking this story at a mix of paces, but above all, I'm trying not to rush it. So, just bear with me if you can. It's just no fun if I jump around like a spider and miss all of the goofy details. Hence, this chapter. :P

Thanks again to all of you who have favorited, subscribed, and reviewed! You're making this a lot of fun for me and I hope you're having fun reading it! ^.^

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Whatever you want to call it, it's still a bad bandaging job."

"Oh relax, Brother. You're just upset because you let yourself get hit by a couple of Templar lackeys."

Altair glared at Malik through his muddy irises, debating on whether or not to smack him. "I didn't _let _them hit me, Malik." But it was true. He had been careless and Malik knew it.

"Alright, Brother. Whatever you say," Malik chuckled, patting Altair lightly on his shoulder that _wasn't_ smothered with bandages. "In any case, you're lucky neither of those arrows did any _real _damage or you'd be turning to a new profession right now."

Altair admired Malik for many things, but his ability to endure and live on after tragedy was what stood out the most. He had lost his brother and his arm because of Altair's own pride, and yet on he laughed, accepting the hand fate had dealt him like a leaf swaying in a new breeze.

The two were sitting casually in Altair's quarters. It was early in the morning as the sun told them, peeking through the balcony suspiciously. This newborn light reminded the assassin of his previous recollections of Al Mualim, and he could not help but bring them up with his friend.

"Malik, do you think there is a way to balance emotion…with focus?"

"What do you mean, Brother?" Malik asked, startled by Altair sudden deepening tone.

"I often find myself feeling violent outbursts of emotion while I'm trying to concentrate. It is…distracting."

He shifted uncomfortably about the small cushion he was sitting cross-legged on. He did not want to admit to feeling unreasonable hatred towards that strange girl's captors.

"That is only because you are fighting _for _something, Altair. What is an assassin if he does not have a goal worth defending? A light worth heading towards?"

"He is nothing, a tool meant for carrying out his master's bidding."

"Exactly, Brother. Just as we all were for Al Mualim. But you were different. He made you believe you had something to fight for, but his motives were false. Still, it was that fire that burned within you that made you defy his rules and pursue the truth. Do not be afraid of such emotion, Altair. On the contrary, you should _embrace _it. It is what makes you human."

"Then how do I mingle it with my skill to prevent more mindless failings in combat?"

Malik laughed shortly, "You don't."

"What?" Altair snapped, frustrated. "No, Malik. I think there is a balance…"

"Oh there is, Brother, but it involves a considerable amount of practice."

Altair raised his eyebrows, ushering Malik to continue.

"If you completely cut yourself off from your emotions during combat only, then you will be able to focus more clearly. It is that simple."

"And yet so difficult?"

"Yes. Very few men are able to cut themselves off, then lapse back into feeling like that."

Altair thought for a moment, gazing out towards the brightening mountains. "Thank you, Malik."

"Anytime, Brother," Malik smiled good-naturedly.

"Any word from our search parties?" Altair asked suddenly without turning his head.

Malik paused, "Quite anxious, aren't you?"

Altair ignored him and patiently awaited a response.

"It has only been a few hours, Altair. They probably haven't even reached _Damascus_ yet."

"I see."

"What are you planning on doing if they find her anyway? You still need time to recover."

Altair did not answer and chose instead to continue staring at the happily rising sun. He knew exactly what he would do. He would go straight to wherever that pesky girl was, drag her back to Masyaf himself, and tire her to the wall so she couldn't go ANYWHERE else. She had already caused enough trouble as it was. In fact, he was beginning to wonder whether or not her story was true…But, that device…He shook his head decisively. Of course it was true, and she had to be found.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_Helwa…_wake up."

I moaned at the sound of the vibrant voice beside me, accompanied by gentle raps at my shoulder.

"We're here," the voice smiled.

As consciousness began to seep into my senses, I fully expected to open my eyes to the sight of my old room in my old house in my _old _time. But I was utterly disappointed. I wiped heavy sleep from my vision and strained to see the calm expression of Zafar staring back at me.

"Oh no…" I groaned. "I haven't woken up from this yet…"

"What was that?" Zafar asked with a hint of disinterest.

"Huh? Oh, nothing."

I straightened myself in my seat and blinked away the last bits of drowsiness as the sun bored into my skin. Warm sweat pooled at my forehead and beneath my arms.

"It's hot!" I gasped, wiping my hand across my face.

_And I'm willing to bet no one uses deodorant around here._

"Not like England, eh?" Zafar grinned, then waved his hand out before him in a grand gesture. "Welcome to Damascus."

I turned my attention to where he pointed and was greeted by one of the most beautiful scenes I had been witness to. In a magnificent oasis below our current cliffs sat a proud, ancient city. All around it sat careless palms and streams of blue water. The game was only a little accurate, on account of the city's overbearing size. It extended far into the desert like an ant digging a tunnel and its numerous mosaic towers glowed in the hyper sunlight.

"It's beautiful…" I mused, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Ah, you might be feelin' different when you see the 'honorable' guardsfolk we got patrolling our streets," Zafar huffed, twitching his reigns.

I continued to gape at the city below as we made our way down the sloping cliffside. Eventually, we were at the gates, where a couple of people were making quite a scene.

"Damn it," Zafar breathed, humor still present in his tone. I began to think it was just how he was. Everything had a bit of humor to it in his life.

"What's happening?" I asked. I suspected there was more going on than the simple denial of entry that I could see ahead of me.

"It's those guards," he laughed coldly. "They don't let missionaries into the citiy."

At the break in the city wall before us, which served as the only entrance, there was a man and a woman arguing tiredly with four guards.

"Please, let us in," the man was pleading. "My wife is pregnant and she _needs_ to see a doctor!"

"No, peasant! We know your tricks! You will not turn the citizens of Damascus against God!"

"That isn why w-"

"It's alright, Nahid," the woman said calmly, though with barely-concealed pain. "We don't want to cause any trouble."

"What?" I gasped. "She obviously needs help! How can they do that?"

"Because they're _guards_," Zafar spat, stroking his beard impatiently.

"We can't let them get away with it!" I cried, impassioned with disgust.

"Oh yes we can, _habiti_. Unless _you_ want to get thrown from the city as well."

"No! Zafar, look at that woman! She. Needs. Help."

"I don't care WHAT she needs! _We_ have to pass security too!"

I stood up in my seat, on the edge of strangling the heartless creature beside me. But before I could do anything, a woman approached his side of the wagon and stretched her tanned arms across its edge.

"Zafar?" she asked curiously. "Who is your friend?"

Zafar jumped a little at her voice, but quickly readjusted. "Oh hello, umm…Badiyah?"

She thwacked him on the arm, irritated. "No, you _ghabi_! If you can't get _my _name right, I doubt you can tell me that of your companion."

"Me?" I asked stupidly, still a little distracted by the missionaries being shooed away at the gate.

She laughed, "Unless he has some other people tucked away in this wagon, yes."

"Who are _you_?" I asked, almost aggressively.

I was not about to give my name out to whoever asked for it on the streets, especially not to some strange woman who spoke like it was her birthright to know. How she knew Zafar was none of my business, but how _I _knew him was no affair of hers either. Suddenly, I found myself longing to be back in Masyaf with that promise-breaking assassin. Anything seemed better than parading around with a selfish old man and his mistress.

Well, that was not entirely true. Anything but being held in a Templar camp or starving to death in the wilderness. I reminded myself to be grateful for what I was being given, which was a lot considering my…circumstances.

"Hah! This one's smart, Zafar!" the woman smiled. "Where'd you find her?"

Her wide smile revealed a mouthful of ill-kept teeth and her black hair was tangled haphazardly around her cheeks, yet there was something alluring about this woman. There was something in her large dark eyes that promised to keep all of your secrets safe within.

"She was wondering the road alone," Zafar added coolly, keeping his eyes ahead. "I didn't bring her here for _that_."

"For what?" I wondered aloud, suspicious.

"Oh, why not?" the woman persisted. "She's pretty enough. Dress her up a bit and she'll do fine. Plus, she seems to have a bit of a head on her shoulders, unless she's really good at fooling me. In that case, she'd still be a good asset."

"She's just here to…" Zafar paused, turning to look at me. "You never did tell me why you were coming to Damascus."

"I-I ran away from home," I managed to stammer out. His question caught me by surprise. "My parents were going to umm…marry me off to some noble who drank too much."

The woman clapped approvingly, "Bravo, girl! But that means you have no place to stay!" She looked at Zafar suddenly, her hard gaze barging in on his very soul.

"What?" he asked, annoyed. "Oh, yes of course!"

The woman smiled and directed her attention back towards me. "How would you like to lodge with our old friend, Zafar? He has a lovely little building that he holes out in while he's here. Always blows most of his money on my girls and me, but we won't bother you, _habiti_."

I was appalled. I had never known a prostitute before, but here was one offering me a bed in her favorite customer's home!

"This man is not so lovely," I accused, my brow furrowed. "He'd turn a blind eye to suffering just to save his own skin!"

I thrust a finger towards the quarreling couple at the gate, which the woman followed.

She frowned. "Oh, come now Zafar. That isn't like you."

"It is when those guards are always looking for a reason to take my carriage away!" he snapped.

"So that's what it's all about, then? Your carriage? Come off it, Zafar! That woman is in pain!"

"I _know_," he moaned, pressing his palm to his brow.

"Oh don't act like you're the victim here. Those two have been duking it out with the guards for almost an hour. I'm willing to bet anything that woman's about to pass out. I know you have something that would help."

Her comment stunned me. What exactly did this man do? She acted like he wasn't the selfish slime he had seemed to be a moment ago, but some…kind helping soul.

"And what do you propose, then?" he asked mockingly.

His humor was still there, if considerably diminished. On the road, he had been so alive and upbeat. Maybe it was the guards that put him so on edge.

"Give me whatever it is and I'll deliver it to the couple. You would have passage into the city and the couple will be on about their way."

"What about you?"

"Oh, those guards owe me a few favors. I won't be thrown into the dungeon for aiding missionaries if that's what you're worried about."

I scratched my head awkwardly, eager to see this exchange of goods take place. First, Zafar nodded and rummaged through one of the pouches on his robe, from which he retrieved a small mucky vial of liquid. This he handed swiftly to the woman, who darted off for the couple, her ratty gown whipping in the wind.

"What is this?" one of the guards demanded, his stance hardened at her approach.

"Just something to calm the lady's stomach," she answered, holding up the small vial.

"What?" the female missionary gasped, on the brink of collapsing.

"Here, drink this. It's from the doctor in that carriage over there," the woman offered, smiling warmly.

A doctor? He was a doctor? Well, he was a strange one then. Constantly moving from city to city, denying aid to those who would compromise his carriage and whoring around whenever he had the chance. He was certainly unlike any self-respecting doctor I had ever seen.

The missionary glanced back at the carriage and smiled a weak smile. "Thank you," she whispered, taking the remedy.

I highly doubt that I would have taken it had I been in her shoes. I did not think it entirely safe to take medicine from strangers, but maybe her pain was much worse than it appeared, making her apt to accept anything.

"Hey!" another guard shouted hoarsely. "It is illegal to associate yourself with missionaries!"

The prostitute shot him a cold sideways glance. "Which is why it never happened."

All four of the guards shuffled their feet, unnerved by her statement. So they really did owe her favors.

"I think you're right, miss. Never happened," the first guard echoed. "Right boys?"

The other three nodded and returned to their posts as casually as they could as the two missionaries wandered away from the gate.

"See? How was that?" the woman chuckled, sauntering back towards Zafar's carriage. "I'll see you in a few days, Zafar. And you as well, miss…"

"Sarah," I answered, smiling.

"Lovely," she smiled back. "I am Laleh."

"No, that's not an Arabic name if you're wondering," Zafar added abruptly.

"Huh? Well, then what kind of name is it?"

"Persian. She ran away from home too, _helwa._"

I watched in interest as Laleh disappeared in the crowd of merchants unloading their horses outside the city walls. My views on professions were certainly flip-flopping. Doctors were crooks and whores were angels, but both worked towards a good cause. And then there were assassins...I exhaled, exhausted.

"I know," Zafar scoffed, misinterpreting my noise. "Laleh loosened them up for us. But they're still guards. Dirty sniveling _guards._ In any case, we have to unload all of this stuff before we can get through to the city. I don't suppose you mind carrying a few bags, _habiti?_"

I nodded, "No. Just tell me what to do...and thank you, Zafar."

"Ah, don't worry about it. Just as long as you aren't to picking about not having roof gardens or expensive incense."

I laughed a little to myself. He had no idea what he didn't have. There was no internet, no real beds, no radios, no...showers.

"Is there someplace to take a bath?"

"Bath? You mean like clean yourself off?" he asked, sounding not a little astonished.

"Umm...yeah." I sniffed, unbearably aware of my odorous sweat.

"Well, no. Everybody washes in the river. Just let me know when you want to head there, but you should probably wait until we get settled in to go anywhere. Those guards are slimy creatures."

I gasped. Take a bath in public? No way. "I'll pass, I think. Thank you, though."

Zafar shrugged, leading his carriage over to the four mortified guards for investigation of his goods. Soon we would be in the city and I had a place to stay, to boot. Granted, there was no private bathing arrangements, but I would have to live without it until I could find a way home. At least I wasn't starving and alone. And above all, I wasn't in any danger, for now at least. I had learned to expect the worst in this wretched realm.


	7. VII: Crossing Paths

"Well, here we are," Zafar announced, setting his crates on the ground with exaggerated caution.

He had been warning me constantly about the frailty of his belongings, thus preventing me from being able to enjoy the beauty of the city. Instead, I had to spend my time focusing on the bags I had been given to carry. But I was in no position to complain. After all, he was letting me stay in his home.

We had gotten past the guards with ease, minus the incredible tension radiating from Zafar. Once in the city, he led me through crowds of beggars and merchants until we arrived at a cramped, smelly alley, which just happened to mark the entrance to his home…I may or may not have shrieked when a few rats showed up to greet their company.

Presently, Zafar was digging through his pocket for a thin metal block. The door that loomed in front of him looked ancient. Very ancient, like it had been there while the dinosaurs walked the Earth. Mossy vines twisted over its neglected handle, rendering it useless, and the foul stench of the alley ate at its boards like a disease.

"What are you doing?" I asked, peering over my luggage at the metal object he was fiddling with.

He smiled wryly and stuffed his entire hand, with the metal piece, through a worn hole beneath the door's handle. "Got no key. Can't trust those guards."

"Huh?"

I watched as he wriggled his wrist, carefully maneuvering his hand behind the door. What was he _doing_? Suddenly, there was a loud creak as some wooden mechanism gave way on the other side. Slowly, without any eagerness to proceed, the door swung open, singing a terrifying solo of pain.

Zafar pulled his hand away and slid the metal block back into his pocket. "No guard has ever been able to break in _here_," he chuckled proudly. "Never."

"What did you do to the door?" I wondered aloud.

"There's a wooden lever on the inside that can only be lifted by way of my fancy metal key here." He patted his pocket happily.

"Why only that key?"

"Now, that's a secret," he grinned.

He certainly was in high spirits now the that guards were out of sight. I couldn't help but wonder about his history with them, but I figured it better to keep my curiosity to myself. Besides, there were more interesting things to think about at the moment, like his…unique abode.

Furious sunlight shown through the musky building's only window, which smiled down at us from the highest part of a wall, casting a soft golden beam about the room. The entire place was caked in a mountainous layer of dust, most likely the product of months of disuse, and there were shelves upon shelves of glass vials, jars, and decanters, each with its own unique opacity and hue.

In the far corner of the room peeked a ratty tapestry, which was the door to Zafar's 'bedroom'. This tiny crawlspace consisted of a stack of rugs with a stained, yellow pillow, an opened bottle of soiled alcohol, and a decorated incense burner.

"Just set those bags over here," he instructed, wiping his hands on his robe after placing his own crates in the indicated corner. "I don't have an extra bedroom, but I could lay out some rugs for you in here. It should be comfortable enough." He scratched his head doubtfully.

What could I say? No? I was willing to take whatever I could get. So what if I had to sleep on a bunch of old fabric? It was better than dirt. At least, that was what I thought _before_ Zafar emerged from the back of the room with a stack of what might as well have been mushy concrete.

He cleared a spot under the window and dropped the 'mattress' in a neat pile on the floor. I stared at it anxiously, then at the dirt flooring, then back again.

_Don't burn you bridges, Sarah._

"Thank you?" I coughed, warding off a storm of dust that erupted from the moving fabric. It came out as more of a question than a statement, but Zafar took it with the same humorous acceptance that he took nearly everything.

"Of course! I'll be unpacking if you need anything. Just don't go wandering around in the streets unless you want to get yourself killed. Those damn guards…"

He continued to rant as I perused his assortment of glass containers. I could have sworn one of them had a squid in it, but for sake of my fear of nightmares, I chose to believe otherwise. I would be _sleeping_ in this room after all.

"Zafar?"

No response.

I shrugged. He was too busy sorting his belongings to hear me, so I decided to try out my new bed. With a considerable amount of caution, I flopped myself down on the thick stack of coarse rugs. It came at no surprise whatsoever that my back screamed in protest at the rocky fabric, but after a few minutes of manning up and crushing all of my weight into it, I finally received a notion of comfort from its relentless depths. The only way I was able to remain sane was by reminding myself:

_It's only temporary. It's only temporary. It's only temporary…_

Suddenly, the hideous creak of the door flattened the silence in the room and a plump lady with wild dark hair flung herself inside.

"Zafar!" she cried, panting horrendously. "Laleh told me you were in town! Oh, thank Allah she was right!" The frightened woman whipped her head around spastically, her eyes wide with the memory of something terrible.

"What is it?" Zafar pressed, his humor tangled into concern. "What's wrong?"

"I-It was a guard! H-He was hurting one of our girls and…a-and t-this m-"

"Calm down, woman," Zafar soothed rather unconvincingly, for there was obvious anxiety in his tone.

"_Taheeb, _you must come with me!"

Zafar was already packed and out the door before she could finish her sentence, leaving me familiarly alone and confused. If the woman had noticed me, she made no sign of it, nor did Zafar give me any indication of his return. Once again, I felt unbearably lost and out of place.

But who was I to be so selfish? Someone in the city was in terrible danger, apparently. I sighed and slouched back into my concrete bed, staring up at the shrouded ceiling as if it held some clue to my very existence. There had to be some reason why I had been so _lucky _to be thrown into this mess, but it all seemed so random, like my presence had nothing to do with anything in this realm. I was like a ghost. A pointless, lost ghost.

~.~.~.~.~

"Open that door! HURRY!" Zafar's youthful voice rang from the alleyway outside.

I jumped at the noise. It had been maybe half an hour since he had disappeared with the hysterical woman. Truth be told, I had grown weary of the silence, but nothing compared to what havoc came barging through the doorway and on the large wooden table in the middle of the room.

From the scummy alley emerged a very strained-looking Zafar with a blood-soaked body in his arms. At his sides were Laleh and the plump woman from before. He flew straight to the table and lay the body on it's back with incredibly dexterity. It was a man, but his features were rendered completely undefinable in the commotion of scarlet that played upon them. He was bleeding out. It didn't take a doctor to notice _that._

"Grab that bottle!" Zafar ordered to Laleh, who was standing at the ready beside a shelf.

While she searched for the remedy he had pointed to, he was busy stripping the man on the table. Completely.

I gasped and tried to look away, but I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. Even beneath his clothing he was unrecognizable. His skin had gone from dark tan to red, and I was terrified as I was mesmerized.

Zafar discarded the soiled garments and pulled a massive stash of cloth from a nearby shelf. After soaking the dying man in the pale liquid Laleh had retrieved, he began the arduous task of bandaging the open wounds on the his bare skin. To me, the man looked like one giant wound. I simply could not fathom how Zafar was able to pinpoint each specific spot of interest like a tour guide in a national forest. If the scene before me did not prove that he was a doctor, then I didn't know what could.

Now I was able to understand his humorous attitude, which was completely missing at present. He held such an outlook to keep himself sane, much like an office worker who parties whenever he has the chance. Zafar had to put up with _this. _A man was dying on his table and he still managed to keep a straight face and a steady hand. In this moment, all of my resentful thoughts towards his questionable behavior vanished and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy towards him. So what if he had to let loose every now and then? The man needed it.

I watched in amazement as Zafar worked, every once in a while asking for this bottle or that herb, until eventually it was over. He stepped away from the table he had spent hours slaving over and rubbed his eyes painfully.

"He's going to be okay," he whispered weakly.

"Oh thank Allah!" the plump woman sobbed. "Thank Allah…"

Laleh turned her back towards me and bent over her raised hands, twitching slightly. I had the inclination that she was crying, but didn't want to show it. Why though? Who was this man on the table? Why was he so important?

There were so many things I wanted to ask, but the room was so stained with emotion that my lips seemed to sew themselves together, preventing me from adding to it.

Zafar pulled a piece of old parchment from a book on the floor and rummaged distantly through his crates for a quill and ink. When he had collected all of this, he leaned over the table and scrawled something on the torn paper, signed it, and handed it to the plump lady.

"This must be delivered as soon as possible, you understand?"

She nodded quickly. "Yes."

Without a second thought, she turned on her heels and half-ran out the door, leaving it open behind her. Zafar then turned to Laleh.

"Laleh, go home."

She straightened herself immediately and sniffed, dropping her hands to her sides. "I plan to, Zafar. I just need a minute to collect myself."

"Well, take all the time you need. Looks like I'm going to be in town for a while."

Finally, I was noticed. Zafar gradually grazed his eyes upon me and smiled tiredly. "There's some food in these crates if you get hungry. I'm going to sleep."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Altair! What are you doing?" Malik called, racing for Masyaf's massive gates.

Altair was busy mounting a slick charcoal steed when he heard his friend's voice splitting through the normal traffic of the town.

"What are you doing?" Malik repeated, stopping a few feet from him.

"I need some time to think, Malik," he answered, lifting himself carefully onto the horse, wary of his wounds.

"There are more practical ways to do that, Brother!" Malik nearly choked. "Your wounds are still fresh!"

"Please, Malik. Don't make this difficult."

Altair's voice was calm and collected. He was leaving whether Malik consented to it or not. The bustle of Masyaf was barring down on his thoughts and he knew the only way he would be able to think clearly would be to ride along the cliffs, something that he enjoyed quite often, wounded or not.

Malik wasn't naive, and though it pained him to do so, he nodded resignedly. "I cannot tell you what you may or may not do, Altair. But as your friend and Brother, I can ask you not to endanger yourself like this."

Altair smiled. "I'll be back soon, Brother."

"Safety and peace be upon you, Altair."

~.~.~.~.~

After riding along the sands for a few hours, Altair was beginning to feel a little more at ease. He had been pondering Malik's solution to balancing emotion with focus and decided to let it be for the time being. Currently, he was more concerned with the missing girl.

As much as her presence annoyed him, he couldn't help but feel incredible sympathy for one in her position, which was the real reason he had decided to leave Masyaf. He had hoped by some random stroke of luck to run across her sitting in the road, waiting for him to scoop her up and take her back to the fortress with all the assassins.

It felt like centuries ago that he had promised to keep her safe, then broken that promise, which was why he longed so badly for her to show up unbruised and smiling. His emotion was sweeping over him like a mighty wave, stabbing him with guilt at the suspicion of her death, which would have been so easy for someone to accomplish. He shook his head, ignoring the pain that ignited in his shoulder.

As he squinted against the setting sun, he began to make out the contours of a horse in the horizon, climbing the cliffs from the road to Damascus. Was it the girl? He froze, his vision becoming clearer as the mounted silhouette became closer and clearer. Finally, he could see perfectly well who was riding towards him.

"Hey!" the plump rider called.

It was a whore by the looks of her torn skirts and bright face coloring, which was slightly startling. One rarely saw them wandering the roads. They usually stuck to the darkest alleys of the cities, not the wilderness. But what really surprised Altair was that this whore had yelled for him. Or at least, he thought she had meant him. With a quick glance backwards, his suspicions were proven correct. He was the only one on the road.

"Hey!" she cried again, desperation clear in her tone.

Altair's lip twitched distastefully. What did she want with him? The woman sped up until she was just a few feet away from him, at which point they both came to a screeching halt.

"What do you want?" Altair questioned, trying to sound utterly disinterested.

Her tone was still urgent. "You! You're an assassin, aren't you?"

Altair ignored her, staring gravely. This was all the reply she needed.

"One of your kind was injured very badly in Damascus. He is being cared for by Zafar Hadad. H-He's a doctor. He gave me this letter to give to the assassins at Masyaf." She produced the battered parchment that Zafar had written on from her pouch, her hands trembling.

Altair took it as casually as possible, his own hands beginning to tremble. There were very few assassins stationed in Damascus, including the search party Malik had sent there. As he read the sloppy letter, a decision as resistant as stone formulated in his head, for in his choppy hand, Zafar gave the assassin an excuse to abandon his simple stroll and head straight to the city to investigate. Why was this so important?

The girl could have gone to Damascus.

While he was concerned for his Brother, Altair saw the news as an opportunity to search the city for the girl while he was there. It was the most sensible thing to go after all, considering he was the closest assassin to Damascus at the moment. There was no way Malik could argue against it. Waiting for his Brother to recover would give him plenty of time to search the streets before having to return to Masyaf with the injured assassin.

Altair nodded decisively, "Take this letter to Masyaf and tell them that you saw me. Tell them that I went straight to Damascus."

"Yes, I understand." She took the letter back and stuffed it into her pouch, "One more thing, assassin."

"What is it?"

"Your umm…brother. He saved my sister's life. Would you thank him for me when he wakes up?"

"I will."

Altair and the plump woman parted ways and headed in opposite directions, each with a message to pass along. As far as the missing girl was concerned, Altair had no idea what he had just stumbled upon.


	8. VIII: Nighttime Guest

**Note ~ **Bit of a transitional, this one. I didn't want to make everything happen at once. ;P

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Woah," Altair soothed, bringing his horse to a halt outside of Damascus' looming entrance.

The sun was lost behind the peaks, leaving a cloaked desert night behind. This was perfect for prowling the streets; plenty of shadows to lend their aid. To tell the truth though, Altair had never liked Damascus at night. It was too dangerous for its own good. Madmen stalked the alleyways until the wee hours of the morning and guards jumped at anything that moved. It was not uncommon for wandering citizens to be slaughtered by frightened guards, then thrown in the river and deemed missing.

Altair dismounted and patted his steed reassuringly as a promise of his return, though he imagined he would be in Damascus for a while. He sifted through his memories to recall the exact appearance of the strange girl so that he might recognize her in the tan bustle of the city. She was pale. That was a start. But what else? Her hair was…Altair winced, his memory fading. He had only seen her once, after all. He didn't even know what color her eyes were…

He thumped himself on the forehead like such an action would suddenly make him remember everything about her; the shape of her lips, the curve of her face, everything. But nothing came. All he could think of was _pale_, which was not a very good lead. Pale skin was not as uncommon as many believed it to be in the desert.

Suddenly, Altair felt himself feeling very lost. He had been prepared to question citizens as to the whereabouts of a pale girl with so-and-so eyes and so-and-so hair length. For some naive reason, he had thought that he was fully armed with a spate of details to lead him, but he had nothing. And all in one second, he was a novice again. He was stupid, fumbling around in arrogance and pride.

But why? Why was he suddenly so foolish? Perhaps it was his aching desire to bring the girl back into the hands of the assassins. Perhaps he was letting his emotion run ahead of him, yanking on his robes and making him stumble over what should be easily-avoided obstacles.

He shook his head. Before he did anything he would have to discern the location of this doctor, Zafar Hadad. He didn't expect it to be too hard. Information gathering was one of his specialties. Still, he found the task slightly tedious. It was usually left to the lesser assassins, but he had none at his disposal. He sighed. It certainly did feel like he was a novice all over again, but with the wisdom of a master. Why did this girl have to come and make life so complicated?

Altair slid in with a group of ghostly scholars who were passing through the entrance guards. There was always an abundance of them circulating in and out of the cities, chatting about literature or praying quietly amongst themselves. Most of the time, they never even noticed when the white-robed assassin joined their step and used such a guise to avoid needless bloodshed. Guards knew all too well who he was if they focused well enough on his body language, and they were apt to attack him on sight. He may have been an assassin, but killing in the streets was just messy and careless.

Always have an escape route planned. Bodies in the streets block the path.

For a while after he split from his pale-robed escorts, Altair wandered around the emptying city in search of someone with the perceptive profession of thievery. They were very easy to spot for an assassin who had been tracking them down for most of his life. Thieves were like little pockets of information jumping from alley to alley, constantly out of the law's reach. But assassins knew how to find them. They relied on the thieves to find targets, dates, locations, etc. In this case, Altair was looking for a doctor.

He strolled cautiously through the seedier sides of Damascus, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow in search of a prowling helper. Even if he had been in a calm field with bunnies nibbling on flowers, he would have looked the same. It was that haunted overcast that drooled over his irises. It made his whole body tense, never allowing him peace to walk with his spine relaxed or his shoulders loose. It was his constant guardian, his awareness, and as far as he was concerned, it was what kept him alive.

And yet, it had been lapsing in and out of existence since the arrival of the strange girl. So much had been thrown at Altair at once that his sterile watchdog had abandoned him in the haze of combat, throwing him from his senses and making him careless. But his mistakes were his own, and he would be the one to deal with them. He planned to practice the balancing technique that Malik had told him about. He planned to perfect his focus and become a true master of the art.

But since when has _anything_ gone as planned in anyone's life?

"Hey, watch where you're going, _ghabi_!" a distinctly female voice spat.

Altair pulled himself out of his thoughts and stared blankly at the battered woman who stood just a foot from him, her arms propped angrily on her waist. Apparently, he had run into her, but he could only vaguely remember something insignificant bumping into his chest. So much for focus.

Altair stared at the woman in interest, his hope rising. Only one type of woman roamed the alleys of Damascus at night, a streetwalker. She was no thief, but _her_ social corners were just as colorful.

He bowed apologetically, his hood carefully falling over his eyes. "Excuse me, miss. Could you point me in the right direction of Zafar Hadad?"

A slight gasp made it all the way to his lips before he was able to smother it, for the woman had suddenly reddened in the sharp moonlight.

Her eyes blazed with emotion, glazing over as she blinked away tears. "Y-You're an assassin…"

Altair's eyes narrowed. Was this woman the sister of the messenger he had met on the road? The one whom his brother had saved?

Unlike the last time he was asked this question, he felt compelled to answer. "I might be. I was told that the doctor is caring for someone close to me."

"So you met my sister then?" she sniffed.

Altair nodded, answering the question to himself as well as hers. "Where can I find the doctor,_ wallad_?"

There was something about the sheer stress that seeped from this woman's pores that gave his tone a hint of almost fatherly softness. It seemed that at any moment she was going to shut down and collapse, and he would be the only one there to catch her. Consciously, he began to suspect that his Brother had been injured more seriously than he had first anticipated if this woman was so shook up about it.

She looked down at the dirty Earth and wiped her eyes determinedly. "Keep going straight," she sniffed. "…down this alley and turn right at the end. Then…t-then turn right again and you should see his door."

With this, she turned and stumbled off into the night, her steps edged with drunken tenseness.

"Safety and peace," Altair whispered after her before disappearing into the shadows.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to look at it, that stupid monster that felt like it weighed a million pounds in my pocket. Zafar was fast asleep behind his tapestry and Laleh had left a little bit ago. It was my perfect chance to investigate the odd difference that I felt in my futuristic device.

I slid my hand in my pocket and felt the familiar leather case run against my skin, begging me to pick it up, unwrap my headphones, and lose myself in a stream of music like I always had in the past. But I had no headphones now, and there was no music in my thoughts. All I wanted was to go home. I wanted to see my family again. I wanted to believe that this was all just a dream.

I clutched my mechanical marvel, pulling it from my pocket and lifting the now sandy leather flap to see its illuminated screen smiling back at me. But instead of seeing my usual ipod menu, I was greeted by a blank bluish hue with a tiny grey logo in its center. The design was too small to see in detail, but it definitely had NOTHING to do with my ipod.

I nearly screamed as I slammed the case shut and stuffed it back into my pocket. That thing was not my ipod. Suspicion dried my throat as I considered what someone had done to change it. It had been tampered with, that much was embedded in my beliefs. But I couldn't just throw it into the woods and forget about it. First of all, I saw no woods. Second of all, I was the only one suitable to hold the machine. I _had _to hold onto it, for everyone's sake.

I don't know how long I sat there with my pocket itching against me. I wanted to pull it out again and investigate the strange symbol that lay plastered on its screen, but just before my curiosity could get the better of me, there was a harsh knocking on the door.

Naturally, I jumped. The knock was slightly casual, so there was no way this was another medical emergency. But then, who would show up at someone's house at _this_ time of night?

I glanced nervously towards the heavy tapestry that concealed Zafar. He was fast asleep. There was no way he had heard the visitor. Then there was the man who lay unconscious on the table in front of me. Well, he was out of the question too. I was the only one who heard the knock, and a part of me began to doubt that it had happened at all, just my ears playing tricks on me…

And then there was another knock, this one more urgent than the last. I shook my head. There was definitely someone there. But what could I do? It was not my house to open to visitors…or enemies. My thoughts wandered to the lock that Zafar had in place. It had been left untouched after Laleh left. The door was unlocked, leaving me completely able to allow someone entrance into the small abode.

I winced as my curiosity took over and lifted me to my feet, which slowly carried me to the rotten door. As quietly as I could, I searched the cluttered shelves for something useful, like a dagger or wine bottle. Another knock hit the wood as I retrieved a promising needle-type-thing from behind a sinister jar. This would have to do.

Keeping my weapon concealed in one hand, I edged closer to the door and pulled it open only slightly to see who stood on the other side.


	9. IX: Ghost

**Note ~** If you have visited my profile lately then you should know that I had a little creative breakthrough while eating some scrambled eggs and I have some plans up my sleeve for future chapters. :P Granted, I never _actually _plan anything, so I guess you could call it...inspiration maybe? Whatever, enough of my talk. On with the chapter!

P.S. ~ Thanks for the review _Water-Sirene_! And to all of you who have been reading this little old story! You all deserve a muffin...or two.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair stared expressionlessly at the shrouded creature peeking around the other side of the door. It was too dark to see anything but the dark strands of hair that fell messily over the mystery's eyes.

"Zafar Hadad?" he asked cautiously, squinting in the heavy shadows with hopes of getting a better look at his greeter.

After several pained minutes, the person spoke. "H-How did you find me?"

Altair froze. Despite being slightly huskier than he remembered, the voice that breathed before him was impossible to mistaken for anyone else's. It was completely devoid of any accent familiar to him, and it carried with it a thread of sadness that could be countered by no other. This voice belonged to the girl.

But how? What were the odds of happening upon her like this? He had been searching for a doctor and had thought that finding _her_ would be a whole other task. And yet there she stood, covered in darkness, her question lingering quietly in the humid alley.

"I-I came here for my Brother," Altair pressed, his composure faltering.

"Your _Brother_?"

He could not tell if she was harmed, but she was alive, and that was enough to lift an incredibly aching weight from his spine. Also, she was not in the hands of the Templars, or at least it seemed that way. What Templar doctor would care for an Assassin?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Suddenly, a little gear inside my mind clicked and started turning. The man on the table was an Assassin, and he had some close connection to Laleh. Then there was the letter. Zafar had told the plump woman to bring it to Masyaf because the Assassins needed to know that one of their Brothers had been injured.

And now, Altair stood anxiously on the other side of the door, his expression swirling with thought. That unreliable Assassin had just randomly happened upon me while searching for his Brother.

"So…" I began hopelessly, "You weren't looking for me?"

Part of me felt guilty for even asking, but I had to know. I had to know if he had been searching for me to fulfill his promise of protection. I wanted to know if anyone cared that I had been kidnapped.

"Actually, I was. But I had no idea I would find you _here_. I saw you escape the Templar camp a-"

"You were _there_? Why didn't you help me?" I almost shouted.

The back of my heart was silently leaping in a field of flowers upon learning that he had been looking for me, but it was easily masked by my surprise.

"I did," Altair hissed, annoyed at my outburst.

I was utterly confused. "How?"

"I distracted your pursuers so you could get away. If it weren't for me, you would be dead right now." His tone was cold, and I felt compelled to drop my argument for fear of my life.

What he said made sense. They _had _randomly stopped chasing me, but I had dismissed it as some merciful act of God.

I gazed at his boots guiltily. "Thank you."

"You have nothing to thank me for. I promised to protect you until you could find a way home, and I plan on carrying that through. I am pleased to see that you made it to Damascus safely, despite my lacking efforts to find you after you escaped."

I hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"I was…forced to go back to Masyaf, and I wrongly assumed that you had gone the same direction."

"What do you mean 'forced'?" I asked suspiciously.

Altair twitched his shoulder slightly and winced. "Does it matter? We have more important things to worry about, like getting you back to Masyaf."

For an Assassin, he sure was bad at bluffing. "I think it does matter," I persisted.

He glared at me for a few long seconds before attempting to change the subject again. "Can I come in? I don't want a guard to see me standing here."

He had been standing patiently for quite a while. I deemed it only fair to let the subject drop…for the meantime. I opened the door carefully so as not to let it squeal loud enough to wake Zafar and watched as Altair slid into the dark room, suddenly becoming a shadow before me.

I felt like I knew everything about him, and yet so little. It seemed like he was a completely different person than the Altair from the game I had known so well. I think it was because he was so _human._ No longer were his emotions and responses pre-determined and memorized. He was just as unpredictable as anyone else I knew, and that realization came very close to being frightening.

"How do you know the doctor?" he asked suddenly.

I brushed past him to shut the door, focusing nearly all of my energy on closing it quietly. "I met him on the road to Damascus and he gave me a ride here. When we arrived, he offered me a place to stay."

Altair was silent for a moment and I imagined that if I could see his face he would appear deep in thought, as he often was. "I see. It is fortunate that everything turned out so well. I was planning on having to search the entire city for you."

"I still don't understand, though," I wondered aloud, turning to face his voice. "Why would you want to find me so badly? I thought you just wanted me out of your hair."

"Out of my hair?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

I laughed a little to myself. "Yeah…It means out of your business. Umm…not your problem."

"Oh," Altair paused to make a mental note of the phrase. "Of course not. That…device of yours cannot fall into the Templar's hands. It is my duty to bring you back to Masyaf."

I thought about this for a moment. It was a rational answer he had given, a guarded one. "Well, what if I don't want to go back?"

Altair's voice jumped a little, and I was afraid he would suddenly break his calm demeanor and drag me back tied to the legs of his horse. "I want to help you find a way home, but-"

"Please," I whispered. "I want to leave this city _knowing_ that it doesn't hold the key to my return."

Altair didn't answer. Instead, he allowed the thin moonlight peering into the room to guide him to his unconscious Brother. He lay his palms on the tired wooden table and stared at the sleeping man meaningfully.

"We have until he is on the better part of recovery," he finally blurted out.

"What?"

"We will stay in the city until then. But when he is well enough, we will _all _ride to Masyaf."

I smiled sleepily and nodded, though he had his back to me. "So where should we start?"

"Nowhere, right now. I need to rest from my journey." He sat in the dirt and leaned against the table wearily. "And I must speak with this doctor, Zafar."

"Try not to judge him too harshly," I whispered.

He cocked his head a little. "Why do you say that?"

"It's just…Oh, forget it. You'll meet him in the morning."

I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was staring at me. I just couldn't bring myself to tell him all of Zafar's faults. It was not my place to do so anyway. I stumbled over to my rugs and fell against them, trying to absorb what all had happened in such a short amount of time.

Altair had found me again, and we were going to look for my way home. I smiled contentedly. For the first time, I felt a little twinge of hope drifting somewhere in my heart. I mean, what were the odds of reuniting with him in such a way? It had to mean something, like that I would find my way home in _this_ city. In any case, things were beginning to look a little brighter.

"Altair?" I mumbled, trying to decide if he was asleep or not.

"Yes?"

"I never told you my name."

"I'd rather you not tell it to anyone."

"Huh? Why not?" Who was he to tell me how to distribute my own name?

"Because you are not of this time. It only makes sense for you to remain a ghost while you are here."

I felt an instant pang of guilt at his words. He made a valid point, one that I should have considered earlier.

"I…umm…"

"You already gave it to somebody, didn't you?"

I did not answer him, choosing instead to let him revel in his perceptiveness.

"Well, just keep it to yourself from now on." I was surprised at the lack of judgement in his tone. Perhaps it was because he was so tired.

"Then what will you call me?" I challenged, a little hurt by his request.

"_Shabah_."

"What does that mean?"

"It is what you are in this world."

I swallowed dryly, remembering his previous advice. "Ghost?"

"Goodnight, _Shabah_." he grumbled, his breath curling into a light snore.

I rolled over on my concrete bed and squeezed my eyes shut, preventing any pointless emotion from surfacing. He was right and I knew it, but who wanted to be completely insignificant like that? I was nothing to this place, and I could deny it not longer. But still, there was comfort in knowing that I _did_ matter in my own time. And when the sun rose, Altair and I would begin our search for clues.

~.~.~.~.~

_"How is she doing"_

_"Well enough. She saw it, though."_

_"Relax. I doubt she's smart enough to know what it is."_

_"Yeah well, just remember that she's the only one."_

_"Of course. We don't want to go through all that trouble again anyway."_

_"Good."_

_"But you should keep in mind that that means she is valuable. I trust the implant is in place?"_

_"We're still making a few minor adjustments. It should be applicable in a few days."_

_"Keep an eye on her."_

_"We always are."  
_


	10. X: Movement

I awoke the next day by the sound of hushed male voices.

"We will not forget what you have done here."

"Ah, I wish you would. Doesn't do well with the _guards _to have friends in strange places."

The first voice laughed in a low, measured tone. "You have nothing to fear from them, friend."

"Hah! That's what you say, Assassin. That's what you say."

I rubbed my eyes crookedly and attempted to sit up, though my bedding did everything in its power to stop me.

"Ah, good morning," a female voice called as I blinked away sleep.

I gazed across the room before me, which was bathed in a chilled yellow light from the window above my head. The Assassin on the table was awake and had his hand outstretched to rest in Laleh's, who was smiling confidently at me. On the other side of the table stood Altair and Zafar, who were also staring at me.

I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. "Umm…Good morning?"

"Ah yes, good morning _habiti_," Zafar greeted. "Say hello to our guest."

I opened my mouth to speak but Altair broke in suddenly, "I am already acquainted with your stowaway, Zafar. In fact, I need to take her back to Masyaf with me as well."

"Oh, you two know each other?" Laleh asked, her smile never faltering.

"Why do you need to take her back to Masyaf?" Zafar questioned. "Is she an Assassin as well?"

Altair almost laughed at that, "No, she is-"

Now it was my turn to cut _him_ off, "It's a long story."

I held my breath. There was no way my England cover would mix well with whatever lie Altair was brewing up in his head. I had to bail us both out with the old 'don't really want to talk about it' line. Hopefully, Zafar would let it slide.

"Come now, Zafar," Laleh nearly sang. "It's really none of your business."

"I suppose you're right," Zafar echoed. "But you are still welcome to stay here in my home until your Brother is well, Altair."

"You have done enough, friend," Altair said calmly. "I will be taking my Brother and your stowaway back to the bureau."

I started at this. The Assassins' Bureau was no scummy shack, if the game had been accurate. Part of me felt guilty for wanting to abandon Zafar, but my back called incessantly for a _real_ cushion to lay against.

"Ah yes, you're _bureau_. You know, nobody here even thinks that place exists."

"It doesn't," Altair smiled, letting his hood fall over his eyes.

Zafar grinned wryly. "You Assassins…"

Laleh pulled her hand from the injured Assassin's and waved me over, "You should at least get a decent bath before you leave us, _helwa_."

I looked up at her, confused. "I…Umm…In the river?"

"Hah! What do you take me for? I mean a real bath, not a public washing."

Her tone excited me. She sounded sincere about giving me an _actual_ bath with hot water and soap and bubbles and…privacy.

Zafar scowled at her, "Nonsense! You don't have the means."

"You insult me, Zafar!" Laleh chuckled. "I'll wager _you_ were the one who told our friend here that everybody bathes in the river!"

"That's because it's the truth!"

Laleh stuck her blunted nose in the air and smiled proudly. "Not the whole truth, _taheeb_. Some of us prefer our privacy."

Altair cleared his throat, "Well, feel free to clean her up. I have some things to take care of."

"Fair enough," Laleh agreed. "How about we meet you at the Eastern Bazaar in two hours?"

Altair nodded and bowed cordially to Zafar. "This is farewell, _taheeb. _Thank you for your help."

"Shall we go?" Laleh beckoned from the doorway.

I slid from my rugs in a sort of sleepy daze and followed her out the door. Just before we were out of earshot, I heard Zafar's voice ring from the small house.

"Goodbye, habiti! It has been a pleasure!"

I smiled and shook my head, silently grateful for all that he had done for me, and I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever see him again. Most likely not.

"So," Laleh began in a suspicious tone. "What's that long story you mentioned earlier?"

Women. Even in another reality they were obsessed with gossip.

I tried to wriggle my way out of the topic as casually as possible. "It really doesn't matter…"

"Oh, come now. You may be able to fool Zafar, but don't think you can outsmart me, _habiti_."

"Really, it's nothing," I insisted.

Why couldn't she just drop it already? I did not want to lie anymore than I had to. It was already bad enough that she believed I was from England. I had no desire to formulate an entirely new identity for myself.

"It's alright, you know."

"Huh? What's alright?"

"To be in love with an Assassin."

I stopped in my tracks, laughing uncontrollably. "What?"

So that's what she thought my 'long story' entailed? I couldn't keep myself from my laughter as I thought about Altair and I eloping and having a plethora of Assassin children together.

She straightened and turned to look at me through an innocent veneer, "You've backed yourself into a corner. It's the only explanation that makes sense. He wants to take you back with him because you two are in love." She frowned dramatically. "It must have been terrible to be separated from each other like you were."

I glared at her as menacingly as I could, but I decided not to argue. Her assumptions were safe enough and they spared me the pain of having to create my own excuses, so I saw no reason to fight. Altair, on the other hand…

"Listen, just don't talk about it in front of him."

Laleh grinned proudly and straightened her bodice. "Like I said, it's alright to love an Assassin."

"You know from experience?"

Her tone grew dark, casting a small shadow on the brightening dawn. "I do…and I almost lost him last night."

Suddenly, it all made sense. She had acted so dramatic the night before while Zafar was patching up Altair's Brother. And then she had been holding his hand...

"You and that man-"

"His name is Faruq. It's…hard to love someone who's always risking his own life for the safety of others…But in the end, I know it's worth it."

I stared at the dusty ground uncomfortably. "What about your umm…job?"

She laughed good-naturedly, "He hates it, but I plan on leaving the city and my profession behind when I have enough money saved up. Soon this place will be nothing but a distant memory."

We walked in silence for maybe half an hour through a labyrinth of people and buildings shining brilliantly in the golden morning sun. There were merchants setting up their stalls and children running along the edges of blue-tiled fountains. The heartbeat of the city was so beautiful that I nearly forgot about the blazing heat that lingered all around us as we walked.

Nevertheless, by the time we reached our destination there were thick streams of sweat all along my skin. Laleh led me to the door of an average-looking home. At least, it was normal on the _oustide_.

She pushed the door open to reveal a two-story bordello _infested_ with cushions and drapery. There were streams of people flowing in and out of the halls, all gay with excitement and who knows what else. The whole place was bursting with color and I was afraid that if I went in, my skin would change hues. Needless to say, I hesitated at the doorway.

"Come on in!" Laleh invited, greeting her coworkers warmly as they passed by.

"Umm…You sure?"

"Just follow me to the bath. It'll be fine!"

I peered around the doorway one last time before entering and following her to the very back, where a velvety tapestry concealed another room. Sitting all alone in this small confine sat a wooden tub large enough to fit half of me.

"Is that it?" I asked, barely able to believe my eyes.

So what if it was small? It was a bathtub, which meant I was going to smell human again.

"Mhmm. I'll get some of the girls to help us fill it." She smiled assuringly. "This is infinitely better than bathing in the _river_."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So she has been found, then?"

"Yes," Altair half-grunted, unbuckling his boot to fiddle with the bandage that lay beneath. "Have one of the lesser Assassins deliver a letter to Masyaf. Malik must know why I have not returned."

"Of course, Altair."

"The girl will be staying here with us until Faruq is well enough to make the journey back to Masyaf."

"Altair…"

"Yes, Rafiq?"

"One of our scouts informed me that the Templars who invaded our home are heading for Damascus as we speak. They will only be here temporarily, but I thought is wise to inform you just the same."

Altair stared at his bandage, his mind roaming to the night at the Templar camp. "Do you know when they will reach the city?"

"I cannot say for sure, Master. But if I were to guess I would say a day or two."

"Faruq will not be well before then…"

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Master. They shouldn't stay in Damascus for more than a week."

"Why not?"

"Because they are ultimately heading back to Acre. Our scout believes they are only coming here to trade for arms."

"Arms, eh?"

"Do you think they could be planning another attack on Masyaf?"

"They are always planning, Rafiq…"

Altair glanced out the filigreed windows of the bureau and frowned. It was already noon.

"Something the matter, Altair?" the aging Assassin asked from behind his desk.

"Don't forget about that letter," he replied absently. "I have to attend to some business in the city."

The rafiq nodded. "Of course. Safety and peace, Brother."

"Same to you, Rafiq."


	11. XI: Familiar Faces

**Note ~ **^.^ Thanks for the new review! And once again, thanks for reading all you stand-up people out there! :D

Also, I should say that I used Sarah's name in this chapter not because Altair knows it but because it's in third person. I hope it's not confusing... .

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair glared at the sun above his hood as it relayed the tardiness of Sarah. He had been standing outside of the bazaar as casually as possible, but his patience was limited. As an Assassin, he was not accustomed to standing in the open for too long. This in mind, he slid into a heavy shadow that hung from the bazaar's overbearing depths. He leaned against the warm wall with his good shoulder and studied the patrols of guards that circulated around him.

"Altair!" a light voice called.

He turned instinctively towards its source, his eyes wide with annoyance. Was she so stupid as to announce his name in the middle of the _market_? He immediately looked away from the two approaching women and acted as though he had never heard his name.

"Altair," Laleh whispered when she was a arm's length from him.

"I'm sorry!" Sarah apologized under her breath. "I didn't mean to do that…"

Altair resisted the urge to look at her, noticing that she sounded much healthier than she did two hours ago.

"You're late," he stated calmly.

"We got a little caught up in the crowds. Don't tell me you thought we wouldn't come," Laleh ushered.

Altair ignored her, shifting his position slightly as his knives scratched against the wall.

"Well, I'll leave her in your care now, Assassin," she continued. "I suppose this is where we part."

Altair nodded to himself as the guard he had been watching rounded a corner and disappeared. He relaxed a little and turned to face Laleh.

"It is, but I am sure we will meet again in the future. It is my understanding that you and Faruq are to be married."

Laleh's lips twitched into wide grin. "Yes, we are. So until then, Altair."

She extended her dark hand and pressed it against his heart for a few sentimental seconds.

"Don't get into any trouble, _helwa_," she chided, reclaiming her hand and turning to Sarah.

She and Laleh exchanged a sisterly embrace. Altair shifted his boots awkwardly and stared out at the bustling crowds who marched in and around the bazaar. It was an old, sun-baked building that wound through the Eastern district of Damascus with elegant grace, despite the rowdy bunch that inhabited it.

"Farewell," Laleh said for the last time, pulling Altair back to the moment.

He turned around just in time to see her meld with a crowd of nobles.

"So, you must know this city as well as I," he began after a few seconds of silence.

As he adjusted his eyes to look at Sarah, he almost skipped right over her, unable to recognize the creature who stood before him. She was no longer the disheveled _wreck_ he had seen that morning. He took special care to note her specific features this time around, locking them in his memory for safekeeping.

He gazed in interest at her face as it contorted to find an answer to his remark. Now that her hair was out of the way, he could see that her eyes were a piercing shade of blue. Her almond-colored hair fell to the small of her back in springy collections of curls, and her lips were almost ruby red against the paleness of her skin, bitten to shame by a nervous habit of hers. These lips were always bent at the ends in a subtle smile that she either could not control or did not care to.

But it was not so much her appearance that displaced her from the breath of Damascus. Rather, it was her demeanor. She stood in place with an aching anxiety that made her look small and unnaturally still in the common movement of the city.

"I…It's actually much different than it was in the game," she said nervously.

Altair had to pause a moment to recall what he had said, distracted by her appearance. As her words took root though, he sighed vexedly and heaved himself from the wall.

"Then I don't suppose you have any thoughts about where we should begin."

Instead of the usual stuttering or awkward glances, Altair was surprised to see Sarah's hand delve into her pocket almost immediately after he finished his sentence. Her icy irises twitched determinedly as she searched for whatever she was after.

"_Actually_, I do," she retorted. She smiled a small, humorless simper as she pulled a familiar black object into view, concealing it slightly with her palms.

Altair's eyes widened as he recognized the strange device, remembering his first encounter with its unnatural light. "Put that away!" he hissed.

"But I-"

"Do you want to get yourself killed? Put it away before you are seen with it." Altair glanced anxiously around the bazaar, an endless stream of concerns rattling through his thoughts.

Sarah looked at him with a puzzled expression as she stuffed the device back into her robe. "But I need to show you something," she whispered.

He scanned the area for a promising alley and gestured for her to follow him into its security. When they were both successfully shrouded, Altair glared at the street they had abandoned to ensure that they were not followed.

"Paranoid, much?" Sarah commented, a little disgruntled.

"No, just cautious. It comes with being an Assassin." He peeled his gaze away from the crowds to look at her. "I thought you knew all about my life."

Sarah fumbled a little with her response, "Apparently not."

"That game of yours must be heinously inaccurate," he scowled.

"How does it feel to know that I have witnessed so much of your life?" she asked suddenly, seemingly unaware of his disapproving comment.

"Why does it matter?"

"I…I've seen the assassinations you carried out for Al Mualim. I've heard your every response to his advice," she hesitated. "I know about Malik's brother and how you betrayed the Creed in Solomon's Temple…"

Altair stared at the ponderous girl before him, noting what looked like sympathy in her eyes, or perhaps it was curiosity. Either way, he would not feed her thoughts. It mattered little what he felt about being in some game from the future. Honestly, he had chosen to ignore her claims and dismiss them as false until she could be sent successfully home. Why did she have to keep _prodding_?

Her tone struck his old, well-healed wounds, forcing him to relive the realities she mentioned. There was no doubt that she knew very much about him, but he tried not to let this fact bother him too much. After all, he was trying to _balance_ his emotions, not jump into a pool of them. But it still felt strange to hear his private memories spilled from a near stranger's lips. He couldn't help but feel a little violated.

"I don't care what you know about me," he lied. "I just want to help you get back to your time before something complicated unfolds from your presence here."

She scrutinized the dusty ground, "But don't you think it's only fair for you to know more about _me_?"

Altair sighed impatiently, "I thought I already went over this. I don't want to know _anything_ more about you. You are _Shabah_. Now, just leave it at that and show me what you wanted me to see."

"Fine," she muttered reluctantly. "But it still seems...Oh, forget it."

With this, she pulled her device into the open again and flicked up its case. Altair braced himself for its ghastly blue light as he awaited an explanation.

Her pale finger shot to the middle of its square screen, pointing at a minuscule picture that lay there. It was too small for Altair to see clearly from where he stood, but he refused to move any closer to the device.

"I saw this last night," Sarah began, still pointing at the tiny picture. "This machine is different form the one I had in my…time. I'll spare you the details, but that symbol-" she jabbed her finger against the screen for emphasis. "That symbol has _never_ been there before. I don't know where it came from, but I _know_ it has something to do with my coming here."

Altair tried desperately to mask his terror at the strange mechanism. It reminded him too much of the Piece of Eden. "Do you-" he paused to clear his throat meaningfully. "Do you recognize it from anywhere?"

"No," she frowned. "It's too small for me to get a good look…"

"Hm…Then how is it useful?"

Sarah smoothed her hair in thought, "I don't know…I thought maybe _you_ would recognize it…"

Before Altair could express his disappointment, a shrill voice cut through the common chatter of the bazaar. "How dare you try to sell me this _khara_!"

"What th-"

Altair cupped his calloused fingers around Sarah's mouth before she could break the silence that fell upon the street, his eyes transfixed on the man who held a frightened merchant by the throat.

"_Yela'an_…" the Assassin breathed as the man's cape flapped open in the stale breeze.

A dark cross. How had they arrived so soon?

Sarah squirmed under his hand, her eyes growing to a dangerous size as she caught sight of the man Altair was watching.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" the scrawny merchant choked, completely at the mercy of his strangler.

"Sorry?" the Templar bellowed, bursting into a strain of sickening laughter.

Altair glanced over at Sarah, who was becoming increasingly agitated. There were small tears teasing her eyes as she tried in vain to pry his fingers from her mouth. The more the Templar laughed, the more hunted her expression became.

"You aren't sorry enough!" the Templar shouted, unsheathing his blade with his free hand.

The merchant tried to cry out, tried to escape, but the Templar was too fast. In a matter of seconds, he had gutted the helpless man, thrown him to the ground, and slid his blade back into its branded sheath. The crowds of what had been carefree shoppers dispersed into synchronized groups of hushed spectators as a battalion of Damascus guards approached the Templar and his ring of five or so men.

"What is the meaning of this?" one of the guards demanded.

Altair pulled his hand from Sarah's lips to guide it to his belt, hovering cautiously over his throwing knives. To his surprise, she remained silent as she watched the scene with increasing disgust.

"Meaning of what?" the Templar snapped, whipping around to face his addresser with what seemed like a foul attempt at politeness.

"You think you can just walk into our city and exercise you own authority in the streets?" the guard sneered.

"This city belongs to us," the Templar said rather lightly.

"So you assume!"

"So I know," he stamped. "Why don't you and your men leave us to our business before we are forced to make a scene."

"Altair," Sarah whispered, tugging on his sleeve pathetically.

He ignored her, choosing instead to focus his attention on the guard's response.

"You scum! I won't let you trample over Damascus and murder innocents in the street!"

The Templar erupted into another stream of audacious laughter. "You won't _let_ me?"

On impulse, all of the guards unsheathed their second-hand blades, positioning themselves around the Templars as a means of intimidation. It did not work.

The Templar leader only laughed more at their attempts, making no effort to reach for his own weapon. The guard who had spoken ground his teeth together at such mockery.

"This is NOT your city!" he yelled, charging forward in a feral blood rage.

The Templar's laugh dissipated as he barked orders at his men, who sliced through the ill-equipped guards like a knife through butter. Blood seeped from their corpses as they fell, one by one, to Templar blades. It ran along the grooves of the rocky ground, outlining most of the street in slick murky crimson.

"Altair!" Sarah repeated.

"What?" he whispered back, giving her a sideways glance.

"That's the man who kidnapped me!" she breathed, her voice breaking harshly.

Altair froze, realizing what she meant. This Templar knew both Altair _and_ Sarah, and they weren't exactly invisible in their shadowy alley.

As quickly as this dawned on the Assassin, the ruthless man in the street diverted his attention to the passionate whispers that rang above the dead silence of the bazaar. Almost immediately after his gaze locked on the unmoving pair, his expression changed from stone to ember.

"You!" he shrieked.

Sarah's eyes very nearly burst from their sockets. "Alta-"

"Run!"


	12. XII: Keeper of Broken Dreams

Altair grasped my arm and whirled me around, half-dragging me towards the back of the alley. I glanced behind us to see Husam charging, hand propped on the hilt of his sword, with all of his Templar lackeys at his tail. Panic swept through me as we dodged crates and buildings, winding through alleys at a frightening pace. I was no runner. There was NO way I could keep this up as long as Altair could. For half a second, I considered telling him to go on without me like everyone says in the movies. I was only a hindrance to him, anyway. But then it hit me.

Why were we running in the first place?

Altair was a perfectly able fighter, and I was confident that in any other situation, he would have drawn his sword. So why not now? Why was he so anxious to escape?

"Altair!" I panted, heaving to catch up to him as he dipped under a clothesline.

"Not now!" he barked.

I chanced another peek at our pursuers and shrieked involuntarily. They were gaining on us. I swallowed hard as my throat closed up on me and my lungs began to ache. I tried to breath out another pathetic attempt at speaking, but my voice gave out on me and left me choking on dry air.

We ran for another five minutes or so until I was sure that my heart would explode if we went any further. I couldn't even see the buildings around us. There was only the thick miasma of my exhaustion that preyed on my every nerve.

Suddenly, Altair stopped, throwing his arm out to block my path before I ran into the wall that stood before us.

"Damn it!" he hissed, looking around for another way.

There wasn't one. It was a dead end.

He had a choice. He could either leave me in the alley and scale the wall, or he could stand and fight like he should have done eons ago. But neither option seemed to occur to him as he stood there, watching the bricks so intently I thought for sure they would move for him any minute.

I stared at him incredulously. What was he _doing_? The Templars were a few turns behind us, weighted down by their bulky armor, but they were bound to show up soon.

"Can't you scale this?" I spat, slapping my palm against the wall.

"I cannot," he said simply.

"What?" I yelped.

What did he mean he couldn't scale the wall? He was _Altair_ for crying out loud! All in one instant, everything I thought I knew about him vanished in the ugly haze that stood before me.

"Well…" I stammered, still trying to catch my breath. "Can't you fight, then?"

"I cannot," he repeated.

"What is _wrong_ with you!" I cried, wary that the Templars were only a heartbeat away.

Suddenly, he turned to look at me through those abyssal irises of his. "I was injured while trying to help you escape from their camp." He glanced up the looming wall like it was about to topple down on top of him. "I cannot climb this and I cannot fight them."

He was injured? That explained why he was 'forced' to leave the camp and go back to Masyaf. But then, where did that leave us? We had no options left, save to lay down and die. I shook my head. That was no option. There had to be another way.

"Well, we can't just sit here a-"

"Hah! You thought you could run from me forever?" a cold, raspy voice growled.

Altair and I both turned to face the dark, blood-thirsty Templar who skidded to a slow saunter behind us. His men rounded the corner with him, panting and sweating like mules.

"And you, _sharmouta_! I'll be sure to keep you in irons this time!"

I flinched as he pointed his knobby finger at me, grinning wickedly.

"Watch your tongue, Templar," Altair snarled, making no attempt to reach for his blade.

"Or what, _Hashishin_? Are you going to throw a couple of knives at me? Your kind are all the same. All talk, no _action_. Instead of telling me to watch my tongue, why don't you try to cut it out?"

I felt the familiar pang of bile accumulating in my throat. This man was _disgusting_. Apparently, Altair felt the same way.

"I would hardly need to _try_," he spat.

Husam laughed his throaty laugh and glared at Altair through tiny slits for eyes. "I will make you a deal, _Hashishin. _You hand over the girl and I'll make sure your death is fast and painless! What do you say?"

I cringed. There was no way I was going back into that monster's captivity. Husam's men gathered around him in a semi circle, blades drawn. Try as he may, Altair could not stall much longer.

He adjusted himself to an appropriate combat position, his fingers playing at the air beside his belt. It didn't take a genius to see that he was going to fight this Templar, despite the wounds that bound him. It also didn't take a genius to see that he would lose. He was grossly outnumbered and outgunned…or rather outsworded.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I had to do _something_. I couldn't just sit back and watch Altair sign his own death warrant. I had thought earlier that there was another way, and I was right.

"Husam!" I called, vehemence stitched into my strained breath.

He averted his gaze to look at me, slightly startled by my outburst. Altair turned too, obviously surprised that I knew the Templar's name.

"I suggest you turn around and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of," I sneered. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Altair stood completely still, his expression boiling over with concern. I think he was under the impression that I was bluffing, and in that he was correct. However, Husam was not so serious. He simply scoffed at me, folding his heavy arms across his chest.

"Bold words, _bintun_. I might have to sew those lips of yours together."

I did not flinch. "This is your last chance, Templar. Leave." I paused to shoot a successful glare in his direction. "_Now_."

The overbearing polite side of me was surprised at my sudden vigor, but it felt too good, too empowering, to let go. I _liked_ this attitude. It made me feel a little less lost in a world I knew virtually nothing about.

Anger twitched on Husam's brow. "That's it, girl. You're becoming more trouble than you're worth. Don't make me kill you, too."

"No, don't make _me_ kill _you_," I corrected, presenting the leather-cased device from my pocket.

Before I could flip open the case however, Altair reached out and snatched the ipod, tossing a cold, nervous glance in my direction.

"Hah! What is that?" Husam jeered.

Before anyone could respond, a dark arm reached around one of the Templar's necks and pulled him away from the group. Altair instantly shoved my ipod back into my hands, simultaneously reaching for his knives. I stood perfectly still, mind whirling. Had someone come to our rescue?"

"_Khara_!" Husam screeched.

The remaining Templars drew their blades, wheeling around to witness their stolen comrade's death. His armored corpse fell to the ground with a distinct "clud" as a bleared figure stepped from the shadows. Laleh.

Altair half-grinned at the backs of the men who stood before him. He sent a string of knives at the napes of their necks, and one after another they fell before they could even _try_ to attack Laleh. Eventually, Husam and his last three lackeys were backed against the wall, eyes twitching between the Assassin and the whore.

"You've nowhere to run, Templar!" Laleh taunted ominously.

I had never even considered that such a side of her existed. She held a glimmering dagger in her right hand, ready to slice Husam to pieces in a heartbeat. But how had she even known that we were here?

"What are you doing here?" I called, careful not to use her name. I was not about to make the same mistake I had made in the bazaar.

Laleh kept her eyes on the squirming Templars. "I came to see what all the fuss was about in the street. When I arrived, someone told me that a man in white with a pale girl had been chased into the alley by the Templar _scum_. I was not about to let you two get killed."

"_Sharmouta_!" Husam yelled.

He launched himself at her, blade raised high. Altair immediately sent another knife at the rampaging man, but it glanced off his helmet and smashed into the building beside him.

"Laleh!" I screamed.

I sprinted towards Husam, all but forgetting that there were still three armed Templars standing at the wall, but I was too late. Laleh tried to dodge his incoming sword, tried to slide out of his range…

She was not fast enough, and he successfully jammed his weapon through her ribs. She cried out in pain as he tossed her to the dirt and reclaimed his sword. Almost instantly after he straightened himself again, I came toppling into his back, sending him to the ground beside her.

Dimly, beneath the haze of my fury, I could hear blades clashing against each other behind me. But it did not matter. Nothing mattered but the faltering breath of Laleh as she reached for her dagger with trembling fingers and ran it through Husam's throat with all the strength she had left.

He twitched frantically for half a second, then went limp under my weight. I flinched as I felt his muscles die beneath me, his breath slowing to a halt.

He was finally dead. But at what price?

"Are…you a-alright, _habiti_?" Laleh coughed, staring at me through collapsing eyes.

Tears spilled from my cheeks and splashed on her bloody abdomen. I had only known her for a few days, and here she was giving her life for mine, wanting to know if _I_ was alright.

"Hold on, Laleh," I breathed. "You're going to be alright!"

Altair appeared at my side, his hands stained with scarlet. "Get out of the way," he ordered.

Something in his tone commanded compliance, so I heaved myself fro Husam's stiffening body and backed away swiftly. I glanced behind me to see the sad corpses of Altair's victims rotting beside each other in the dust.

When I looked back, Altair had Laleh in his weakened arms and was heading out of the alley at a focused pace.

"Where are you going?" I choked, still not fully conscious of what all had happened.

"Zafar," he answered frigidly, disappearing behind a building.

I wiped a palm across my cheeks and ran to catch up to him, praying constantly that we would get there in time. Laleh had to survive. She just had to.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair stalked into the alley that marked the entrance to Zafar's den, Laleh whimpering pathetically in his arms.

"Get the door, _Shabah_," he breathed.

Sarah's expression went from bad to worse when she fixated er eyes on the ancient port. She approached it hastily and tried to push it open, but it would not budge.

"I knew it!" she gasped. "He keeps it lo-Wait!"

She pulled her strange device from her pocket and jammed it into the bitten hole in the door. After a few aching seconds of fiddling, there was a distinct crack from the other side and the door slid open. She smiled a little to herself as she dunked the black object back into her robe.

"You're not the only one with a key, Zafar," she mumbled.

"Move," Altair hissed, barging into the musty room. "Zafar! Where are you?"

The aged doctor appeared from behind his crates with an armful of incense. At first, he simply looked surprised, but when he caught sight of Laleh, he dropped what he was holding and went straight to his table.

"Bring her here," he commanded. "And shut the door."

~.~.~.~.~

_"Don't you think she's been through enough already? This may alter her susceptibility to the implant."_

_"Well the Assassin survived, didn't he?"_

_"His liver wasn't punctured."_

_"What are you saying?"_

_"I'm saying we don't need her to lapse into some emotional episode. We could lose her completely."_

_"Is there anything you can do?"_

_"We could pull her out."_

_"Absolutely not! That's more dangerous than letting her go through this in the first place!"_

_"So you're willing to risk this?"_

_"It looks like we don't have a choice. The implant will just have to be delayed for a day or two longer."_

_"But what if she's traumatized for the long haul?"_

_"Then we'll just put it in regardless. We don't have time to wait for her to stop crying. That implant will save her life."  
_


	13. XIII: Grotto

**Note ~ **Sorry for the delay, guys. Chapter got a little bipolar on me. You know what they say about thirteen... :P

_Jess Ishtar ~ I appreciate the encouragement! I'm glad you find it realistic because I was having my doubts. And I'm not entirely sure about the whole AltairxOC yet...^.^_

_DeathtoBella ~ It's so exciting to see how you perceive it, but I won't say anymore than that. ;P_

_Althay ~ ^.^ Your review made me smile, and I think your English is darn good if you can read all my jumbles of nonsense. :D_

Thanks again for reading and happy April Fish Day! You guys rock!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was too much. All of it was. Never in my life had I seen so much violence…nor so much blood. Zafar's words echoed through my head like an endless cavern; a horrible, beaten cavern that was about to come down on top of itself.

_ She's gone._

Altair stared distantly at Laleh's cold frame, "Nak'la bihaj at'hida muhada eht el'badina."

Had I been less on the brink of insanity, I probably would have been startled by this sudden stream of Arabic. It hadn't even occurred to me that everyone had been speaking in mostly _English_ since I arrived. I had just gone along with it like it was completely normal.

It wasn't.

I blinked in a futile attempt to pull myself back to my senses, but I couldn't. My mind refused to go back, for fear of my heart dropping out of my chest and spilling out on the floor beneath me. My consciousness had holed itself into the very back of my blood, teetering around on a blank white canvas. It was in total and absolute denial.

And yet my rational side had to keep poking at it, trying to drag it back to the reality that fumed before me. But I could't face it. I just couldn't.

"It's all my fault!" I sobbed dreamily, gazing into nothing.

Altair turned to look at me, stunned. "Mal'hu a'heltaj macre?"

"She doesn't need to be here, Altair," I heard Zafar caution.

"Well, she can't exactly go roaming around in the streets," Altair snapped.

His voice was tense, as was Zafar's. Both of them seemed to be trying to cope with the foul stench that polluted the room; the stench of death.

"It's all my f-fault," I repeated, shrinking to my knees on the musty floor.

Zafar kneeled next to me but I could barely see him. My vision was stuck in time, looping Laleh's last breath over and over again in an old black and white motion. She would never leave Damascus. She would never marry Faruq. And it was all my fault. None of it would have ever happened had I not appeared in this rotten world. Life would have gone on as it should. Laleh would have gotten the happiness she deserved, not the cruel fate she was delivered.

"I think she might be in shock," the old man stated, his own composure trembling.

Altair sighed, "Is there something you can give her?"

"I can put her to sleep, but it won't lessen the burn. She doesn't have much experience with this kind of thing, does she?"

"I had hoped to keep it that way," Altair muttered indignantly.

"Get that tin from the shelf," Zafar directed. "No, the other one."

Altair retrieved a small metal box from behind a glut of bottles and handed it to the doctor. I watched his movements with the utmost emptiness. There was a little voice in the back of my mind that kept telling me to snap out of it, to get on my feet and keep moving. But on I sat, rocking back and forth in my memories.

"Right," Zafar began, opening the tin and pulling several dry leaves from its base. He aimed them at my lips. "This will make you feel better, _helwa_."

I stared at him blankly. What was it he said? Make me feel better? That's exactly what I wanted. I nodded quickly and offered him my open palm with subconscious swiftness. In it he dropped the crackled leaves, which I stuffed into my mouth accordingly.

"Sleep well, _habiti_," he lulled.

Slowly, the sight of Laleh's pallor eyes started to diminish in my thoughts as it was swallowed by a welcoming darkness. It was like sweet, sweet honey on my shattering brain.

"Mhmm…" I mumbled, toppling over into Zafar's arms.

~.~.~.~.~

_"Her neural pathways are under tremendous stress."_

_"Is it serious?"_

_"Not yet, but if anything happens..."_

_"Relax, she looks fine to me."_

_"Fine? Her cells are multiplying sporadically and her stomach digested something that didn't even exist! Her body is going to collapse if she doesn't snap out of this trauma we've put her through."_

_"We didn't put her through anything. She did it to herself."_

_"What? She didn't have anything to do with it!"_

_"She's been making choices since the very beginning."_

_"But she never chose to endanger herself like this! I thought you said she was valuable!"_

_"She is."_

_"Then why are you trying so hard to get her killed?"_

_"Nonsense. She's going to be fine."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair glanced at the sleeping girl on the other side of the room, then back at Zafar as he pulled a coarse blanket over Laleh's body.

"How long will she be unconscious?" he asked, nodding his head towards Sarah.

Zafar thought for a moment as he let the fabric drop over Laleh's head, "She should be out for a few more hours."

"Good. I will return then."

"Where are you going?" Zafar questioned, only slightly interested.

Altair ignored his inquiry, "Thank you, _taheeb_. I will see you at sundown."

Outside of the stagnant room, Altair breathed in a fulfilling gust of the sandy desert air. Anything was better than the fetor of rotting flesh. He gazed up at the failing noontide sun, which served as a reminder that he had only a few hours to do what had to be done.

As much as he dreaded it, he had to be the one to tell Faruq what had transpired. But more so, he had to find a way out of the city, and the rafiq was the perfect person to plan with. Altair was far from naive, and he knew that the Templars behaved like animals, chasing after violence like starved wolves. It was safe to assume that someone in the bazaar had told a Templar informant about the trouble in the alley. Thus, they were without a doubt blockading the city in hopes of finding the Assassin with a pale girl.

Altair cringed. The rafiq had to know another way out. He wasn't exactly in the mood to barge through the gates of Damascus with two impeding injuries.

After spending the better part of an hour hiding from patrolling Templars, he finally reached the bureau.

"Ah, Altair. I was beginning to wonder when you would return."

The rafiq bowed modestly as Altair walked into the secure space of the hideout. At this time of day, the light in the bureau was at its peak, projecting ornate shadows on the walls that seemed to turn the place into a carnival of black and gold. Slumped in a pile of pillows on the far side of the room was Faruq, wavering sideways somnambulantly.

"Rafiq, there was some trouble at the in the Eastern district," Altair began, pulling back his hood to wipe sweat from his neck.

"What kind of trouble?"

The rafiq of Damascus was a curious, withered man. He had large, round eyes and a flat mouth that always seemed to ask where you'd been even if he'd seen you only seconds before. It was this same question that his expression asked Altair as the tired, strained Assassin paced along the length of the room.

"The Templars have arrived at the city earlier than we anticipated," Altair continued. He winced as his overused shoulder teased him with pain.

"And?" the rafiq asked, puzzled.

"_And_ they are now scouring the city for me."

The rafiq stared humorously at Altair, "What did you do to make them so upset?"

"They're Templars, Rafiq. Do they need a reason?"

"I suppose not. Still, one rarely sees you this anxious, Brother."

"It's not just me they're after," Altair admitted after a minute of silence.

"Oh?"

"They want the girl too."

The rafiq closed the book he was studying, his interest peaked. "They don't know about the-"

"No, they don't. At least not yet."

"Then why else would they be after her?"

Altair waved the air impatiently, distorting the royal sunlight. "We were attacked in the bazaar."

"How did you fend them off with your injuries, Brother? I mean no offense, but you're hardly in a position to fight."

The Assassin hesitated. "We had some help." He looked over at Faruq, half-awake and still partially delirious. "Faruq, can you hear me?"

Faruq's head snapped up, his eyes coated over with a blurry film. "Y-Yes, Brother…"

Altair sighed. It didn't seem right to break the news of Laleh's death to him while he wasn't fully intact. He turned back to the rafiq. "Rafiq, have one of our informants take Faruq back to Masyaf when he is well."

"You will not be doing it?"

"I must leave the city as soon as possible." He stopped pacing and snagged a quill and parchment from the rafiq's desk. "Be sure to give this to him when he's back to his senses."

On this parchment, Altair wrote the words he could not bring himself to say to Faruq. He tried to make the letter positive, choosing to highlight Laleh's bravery rather than dwell on her fate, but nothing helped to ease the tension that twisted his stomach. Sometimes it seemed that death only touched those who deserved it the least, those who loved and laughed and dreamed, those who had the most to live for.

"Altair," the rafiq said excitedly, interrupting his thoughts. "I've got an idea."

Altair left the letter without a signature and lay it neatly on the rafiq's desk. "About what, Rafiq?"

"About leaving the city undetected."

"Very well."

"You could go through the gates in disguise."

Altair raised an eyebrow. "In _disguise_? Rafiq…"

"I know," the old man defended, holding up his hands. "Assassins don't need a disguise to hide in plain sight. But Altair, you're injured. And that girl is no Assassin. It would be wise to do this the safest way possible, Brother."

Altair stared at the softening sunlight for a moment, considering the proposal that lay before him. _Disguise_. It made him sick to think of himself in anything other than his familiar robes, but the rafiq was right. If he wanted to leave the city smoothly, he would have to walk the most practical path.

"Point taken, Rafiq. Give me whatever robes you have to spare."

The aged Assassin smiled proudly. "Of course! I have plenty around here somewhere."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_Helwa_? Are you alright?"

I blinked up at the familiar voice that breathed over me. It looked like Zafar, then Faruq, then Malik, and in all of one second it had morphed into dozens of faces, some of which I had never seen in my life. Finally, it blurred into the soft cheeks of my mother, staring at me with a worried look in her eyes. I cried out and tried to reach for her, but my hands were caught by those of an elderly doctor. My mother's face faded away, replaced by Zafar's leathery expression.

"Z-Zafar?" I whispered, trying to sit up.

"I think you'd better rest a while longer, _habiti_," he answered worriedly.

I was so confused. It seemed as though the world around me was…malfunctioning. I couldn't focus on anything for too long without it morphing into something else. Then, Altair had been speaking Arabic earlier, which made perfect sense. What _didn't_ make sense was that everyone had been speaking mostly English since I arrived. I thought back to Assassins Creed. In the game, there had been translation software in the Animus. But that was just a game. It couldn't possibly relate to my being in this place. And yet…

Before I could come up with any clever conclusions, Zafar's voice cut through the stale air. "Did you hear me?"

"Huh?" I gazed at him blankly, my mind still slightly preoccupied.

"Thought I lost you there for a second," he sighed. "I said I think you could use a little more rest."

"Rest from what?"

"From Laleh…"

At the sound of her name, I felt the steel claws of guilt puncture my heart anew. I lapsed back into my previous depression, dwelling on the truths that I had settled upon.

"It's my fault, Zafar," I whimpered.

He pursed his brow, bemused. "There was nothing you could have done, _helwa_. It is nobody's fault but the Templar who killed her and as I hear it, he has already expired. You have to let it go."

"Let it go? How can you say that? She was your friend!"

"What friend would want the people who care about her to shut down and dry up when she's gone? She didn't give her life for you to do this to yourself."

"But she barely knew me…"

"Sarah," he began, his voice soaked with sincerity.

It was strange to hear my name again. It seemed as though I no longer had one and soon, this alias would whither in the wind.

"Let her go."

Suddenly, there was an impatient knock at the door. Zafar gave me one last thoughtful glance before turning for the other side of the room.

"Who's there?" he called, hands propped on the door's wooden lever.

"Open up, old man," a familiar voice answered.

My head snapped up at Altair's harsh tone. I had not even realized that he was gone. Zafar grinned a little and heaved his wooden mechanism until it gave way, leaving space for the door to groan ajar. I was expecting a white-robed Assassin to cross the threshold. I was expecting to see his leather waist belt and frayed red flag. I was assuming his tanned arms to be free and unoccupied…

This was not the case.

A deep blue robe replaced his customary white. He wore no hood over his head, but a plain turban that intruded upon the air around it. His usually empty arms were encumbered by a pile of garments, under which lay his old gear.

"A-Altair?" I asked, beginning to doubt that it was really him. There was no way he would wear anything but his Assassin robes. At least, that's what I had thought. What was he up to?

Zafar's expression mirrored mine as Altair dumped his strange baggage on the floor.

"We're leaving the city, _Shabah_," he said simply.

"What?" I choked. "We're leaving? What ever happened to waiting until Faruq-"

"They're looking for us," he interrupted, his breath etched with urgency. "If you want to make it home alive, we have to leave before they find us."

He didn't have to tell me _who_ exactly was looking for us. Who else would it be but the Templars? They were slimy creatures, always lusting after violence like pigs. I shuddered. If they truly were trying to find us, then Altair was right. As much as I tried to deny it, we would have to leave.

But I was a firm believer in things happening for a reason. Of course, I could see no reason behind my delivery to this realm, but I was convinced there was one. So maybe leaving the city would lead us to clues or…some glowing portal back to my time. I didn't really want to think about it. In fact, I didn't want to ponder _anything_ at the moment. My sanity had been strained enough.

"We're going to pass through the gates in disguise," Altair continued in a matter-of-fact way.

I stared at him drearily. "I guess that explains your new outfit."

He ignored me and nudged the pile of clothing on the floor with his foot. "I brought you a robe to wear…and a veil."

"A veil?"

"Yes. It might also be wise for us to smear some dirt on your face."

I scowled at him. "Why?"

"Because they are looking for a pale girl. If you don't look pale, we won't be stopped and interrogated."

"Are they doing that to people?" I asked, disgusted.

Altair wiped a palm along his forehead. "Get dressed. We don't have much time."


	14. XIV: Accompanied

**Note ~ **I apologize for less frequent updates. I hit a little bit of a writer's block, but my sister pulled me out of it. Also, I've been working on straightening everything out in my plot line, so I've been having a lot of ponderous moments. I promise I haven't gotten bored with it. ^.^ And yet again, thank you so much for reading!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair paced impatiently outside of Zafar's home, his boots splashing in muddy puddles as he walked. How long did it take to throw on a robe and veil? He sighed and peered at the sun as it waved it final farewell to the Earth once again. Altair paused to recollect, counting on his right hand's fingers. Had it really only been three sunsets since the girl's arrival? It seemed like she had been here for a lifetime. Or at least a lifetime's worth of emotion had sprung up from her bothersome presence. How much longer would it be until she would finally find her way home?

"You gonna stand out here all night, Assassin?"

Altair whirled around to see Zafar staring at him from behind the corroded doorway. "Is she done yet?"

"Well," Zafar paused to clear dust from his throat. "She's not very experienced with attire like ours, apparently. Did you know she's from England?"

"Is she done, _taheeb_?"

Zafar stared at Altair blankly, "No, she's not, and I need a break from helping her find which way is up. It's your turn, Assassin. What do they wear in England? Sacks?"

Altair snuck one last glance at the velvety clouds before following the doctor back into the stuffy room. What he saw fumbling around before him was a blatant _disgrace_ to his culture. Sarah was skipping sideways in a desperate attempt to keep her balance as she pulled a thick robe over her head. One arm poked peculiarly out from beneath the fabric as she hobbled blindly around.

Altair squinted suspiciously. Her arm was bent all the way back, twisting farther than the angle of her elbow. He couldn't understand it. Such a deformity was among the most sacred of the Assassins. It was the mark of those born with the very _soul_ of the protectors. When such a being performed the leap of faith, his arms would dance backwards into the shape of a human Assassin seal. It was said that such men would lead the Brotherhood to its greatest peace.

Why then did this _girl_ bear the mark of the great? From what he had seen, she was far from Assassin material. So what did it mean? Altair was not one to be superstitious, but he did believe in the Assassin's Gift. He simply could not comprehend that some strange girl from a whole other reality could possess it.

"I've done all I can," Zafar sighed hopelessly.

Altair could not peel his gaze away from the flailing girl. "_Shabah_…" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"A ghost. Nothing but a ghost..."

Zafar studied Altair's expression as it twisted in sync with Sarah's graceless movements. "Altair?"

Altair sighed, deciding to forget that he had ever seen such a display. For the sake of his own wellbeing, he would continue to believe that Sarah had completely normal arms. Or at least, he would _try_ to do so.

"Do you have any dirt in these jars, _taheeb_?" he asked, forcing himself to return to the task at hand.

"Dirt? Oh, yes! For her face."

"So you have some? I'd rather not be seen collecting it from the streets."

Zafar smiled wryly, "Well I don't have any dirt, but I do have something else that will do just as fine a job."

"No strange herbs, old man."

Zafar laughed, "Of course not, _Assassin_."

Altair pushed himself towards Sarah as Zafar dug through his shelves like a scavenger looking for treasure. However, the Assassin soon discovered that he could not get too close without being thwacked by a roaming arm. Sarah's head was stuck in the neck of the robe, her vision stunted severely.

"Hey!" Altair warned, taking hold of her wrists to still her.

Sarah ceased her attempts at dressing. "Is that you, Altair?"

"Yes, it's me. You need to stop moving or you're going to tear the robe."

"It'd be better off!" she spat.

"Listen. We're running out of time. The guards don't let civilians leave the city too long after sunset."

"They don't?" Sarah echoed curiously. She cocked her head in the direction of Altair's voice. "Why not?"

"Do they _need_ a reason?" Zafar suddenly cut in. "They're _guards_."

Altair's lips twitched into a slight grin. "Exactly."

"Well if it's so urgent then why isn't anyone helping me with this thing?" Sarah challenged.

"Quiet, _Shabah_. I'm trying."

Altair straightened the tangled fabric and pulled it over Sarah's head with a light tug. The sleeves extended far past the ends of her arms and the bottom dragged on the ground, but it would have to do.

"There," he grunted, brushing off his hands.

Sarah scrutinized her new garb. "What's the difference between this robe and my last one?"

"What?" Altair gasped. How could she not see the variety?

"This one looks the same as my other robe," she persisted.

Altair pressed his fingers to his brow and sighed. "This robe is one that a noblewoman would wear. Your last one was a peasant's gown."

"Hmm…How can you tell?"

"Just look at the colors, _habiti_," Zafar chimed.

"Forget it." Altair waved the topic away with his hand, reaching for Sarah's veil with the other. "You need to wear this as well."

Her expression wrinkled. "Oh, yeah. That looks even more complicated than the robe…"

"It's simple," Altair assured her, albeit half-heartedly.

"_Sure_ it is. Nothing in this place is simple."

"Quite pessimistic today, aren't we?" Zafar chided, still rummaging through his bottles.

Altair shot a nervous glance out the room's only window. "Move you hair, _Shabah_."

Sarah was about to protest, but upon recognizing the anxiety in the Assassin's eyes, she complied. She watched in interest as Altair waved the pallor veil around her head and tied it across her face. By the time he was finished, her head was completely concealed, save a small crevice for her estranged blue eyes.

"Aha!" Zafar celebrated from across the room. "There you are!"

The grinning doctor danced over to Sarah with a thick clay decanter in his hands. He waved Altair out of the way and handed him the lid of his odd container.

"Be quick about it, _taheeb_," Altair warned.

Zafar ignored him and stuffed his fingers into the jar, pulling out a peculiar brown block that almost crumbled at his touch.

"What is _that_?" Sarah gasped, her voice muffled by cloth.

"It is an ancient material once used in cave drawings, _habiti_. It also works as a sterilizing agent. An old witchdoctor gave me some just before she died. But that was back when I was in-"

"Zafar!" Altair broke in.

Zafar frowned and lay the old material back into its container. Without warning, he proceeded to apply his now-stained fingertips to Sarah's exposed flesh. She jolted backwards and glared at him.

"Is it gonna do anything funny?"

"Relax, _helwa_. It is only going to color your beautiful skin."

Her gaze fell to the floor in thought. "Fine. Just don't get it in my eyes."

"Then close them," Altair offered, annoyed.

Altair gazed around the strangled room as Zafar darkened Sarah's ivory face. He was not accustomed to dawdling about when he was supposed to be somewhere at some time. It made him rigid to stand around and wait for Sarah and Zafar to get their acts together while the sun set further behind the mountains. Couldn't they see what was at stake? Time was absolutely of the essence.

"There," Zafar suddenly announced, pulling away from Sarah's space. "As long as you keep you head low, no one should notice your English eyes."

"And if they do?" Sarah mumbled quietly.

"Well…"

Before Zafar could breathe out another word, there was a rough bang at the door. All three of the room's inhabitants jumped at the noise, some more than others. Needless to say, Sarah was sitting helplessly on the floor with her hand propped upon her heart. Altair sighed at her pathetically and made his way towards the door.

"Who's there?" he called, fingers twisting around the hilt of his sword.

"It's me, Brother!" a brittle throat called. The voice was full of passion, but it was broken, like it had been stepped over one too many times.

Altair gasped openly. "Faruq?"

"Please, Altair. Open the door!"

"F-Faruq?" Sarah whispered under her breath.

Altair yanked the lever away from the door and stepped aside for it to sway open. Standing in its center was a very disheveled, very ashen man. Like Altair, he did not sport the familiar robes of his Brothers. Instead, he wore a frosted ivy robe with little boxy stitches all along its seams. His curiously dark curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat, and in his hand he clutched a very familiar piece of parchment.

"I'm coming with you," he breathed passionately.

"How did you find us, Faruq?" Altair questioned, eyeballing his Brother's robe suspiciously.

"Beggars. You're lucky they're our allies, Brother, as you are not very stealthy when you are injured." Faruq's voice quivered involuntarily. It was obvious that he was fighting hard to keep his composure. "The Rafiq gave me your letter and told me what you were planning…"

"Faruq, you would only slow us down," Altair pressed rather emotionlessly. "Go back to the bureau before you are seen by more than just beggars."

"Why, Brother? I am already in disguise. I can help you!"

"Faruq-"

"Please, Brother. Just…Just give me a chance." he glanced at his crinkled parchment and swallowed hard. "I want to know…I want to know why Laleh gave her life to protect you and that girl. I want to help you…"

Once again, Altair found himself caught in the horrid position of making an emotional versus rational decision. He glanced back at Sarah, who was staring wide-eyed at Faruq. He had to protect her. He couldn't do anything to compromise her escape from Damascus. And yet, his heart told him otherwise. How could there be a balance in a situation like this?

"Altair," Sarah whispered almost inaudibly.

Altair hesitated, thinking at first that he had imagined her familiar hollow tone. "What, _Shabah_?"

"Let him come with us."

"What?"

"Like he said, he's already in disguise, and he wouldn't slow us down _nearly_ as much as I do. Besides, he's been through enough already. I think he deserves the closure of accompanying us."

Altair stared at the frowning girl in disbelief. For the first time, her voice was firm. It had a determined truth about it that made her almost glow in the darkened space. She was hardened. This world had calloused her outer shell, masking any fear she may have felt.

And she was right.

Altair sighed. "Very well, Faruq. But we have to leave immediately." He turned back to Sarah and waved her over.

"Goodbye, Zafar!" she called as she lifted herself from the floor, sending a very emotional stare in his direction. "I will never forget you."

Zafar bowed courteously. "Farewell, _habiti_. And don't worry, I'm sure we will meet again."

Altair pushed Sarah and Faruq out into the alley and closed the door behind himself as he splashed into the muddy puddles with them. Their journey was only just beginning. He peeked at the last slit of sunlight that cradled the city in its dying golden hue.

"Let's move," he commanded, leading the party to the North, towards the city gates. "We don't have much time."


	15. XV: Departure

"Wait, Altair!" I whispered with as much kick as I could.

It was impossibly dark and I had repeatedly been tripping over loose bricks and broken merchant stalls. Altair was pulling us along at a dangerous pace. If we kept it up much longer, I was sure to melt in a pile of my own blobby muscles.

Altair did not stop. He only slowed a bit to hear me better above the crack of footsteps that echoed from our rushing trio.

"What, _Shabah_?" he hissed.

I flinched a bit at his tone. I could understand why he was so bent on getting to the gates as fast as possible, but why did he have to let it turn him into some heartless husk of a man?

"Can we…Can we stop….for…a minute?" I rasped.

"No time," he said simply.

All I could do was choke in my anger. Couldn't I have been sent to a time in which being physically adept was not so necessary? Altair and Faruq were like olympians gliding through Damascus' shrouded streets. Me? Well, I was more like a snail with asthma.

Apparently though, slow as they were, snails could still trip and smash their own faces in. I tried to catch something, anything that would break my fall, but all my fingers grazed was cool desert air, sending me flailing to the ground with a distinctive 'thud'.

"_Shabah_!" Altair cried, his whisper boiling over with adrenaline. He sounded more annoyed than concerned.

I groaned and felt the hollow gravity of blood pooling at my palms and knees. My body sang in joy at my less active position. It refused to pull me back to my feet, preferring instead to leave me right where I was as my heartbeat finally caught up to itself.

"Come on!" I heard Altair command.

I peeked up at him, standing over me with an arm outstretched, and I couldn't help but feel the urge to smack him. Had _he_ been the one to trip, I would have showed at least _some_ hint of concern. But I needed to wake up and smell the roses. I wasn't in a happy, fluffy world of bunnies. I was in the Middle East, and we _had_ to get to the city gates. There was no simple warnings or scoldings if we were late. Rather, our very lives were at stake, and I needed to face up to it. I needed to realize that there was no space for my lacking physical qualities.

I blinked once in an attempt to open my eyes to a new me, a new outlook on my situation. So it was with this infant vision that I stared Altair straight in the irises and grabbed his urgent wrist. He pulled me up with one swift heave before turning to continue on our course. I was about to follow suit when I noticed Faruq fumbling with a small dark object in his hands.

Altair noticed too. "Faruq, what is that?"

"I do not know, Brother. It is unlike anything I have ever seen before."

He turned it over in his palms with curious interest. It was then that I realized what it was.

"Faruq!" I whispered desperately. "Where did you find that?"

"It fell out of your robe when you fell…" he mused.

"What?" I gasped.

How could that be? How could my ipod have fallen out of my robe when I had not put it there to begin with? I had never taken it out of my old clothes, so how on Earth did it end up with me now?

"Altair, I never put that thing in my robe."

Altair stared at me for a moment before he realized what I was referring to. When he did, his unhidden features contorted into a suspicious frown.

"Well, there's no time to ponder it now. We have to keep moving. Faruq, give that thing back to her."

Faruq's gaze twitched between Altair and me for all of one second before he nodded acceptingly and returned my device. I reflected on how he asked no questions, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand. I, on the other hand, found it difficult to ignore the fact that my ipod had magically transported to my new robe.

"Altair…how do you think-"

"Quiet, _Shabah_," he snapped, rushing off with Faruq.

~.~.~.~.~

"A little late for you to be out and about, citizen."

Altair stared at the four guards who blocked the gate. The one who had spoken crossed his arms sleepily and glared at us. We must have been a sorry looking group, panting and injured, constantly throwing glances at the sky. But we were nothing compared to the men who stood before us. Beneath their threaded helmets, I could see bruised bags hanging beneath their eyes, and their very skin rippled with exhaustion. How long had they been posted at the gate?

"We must be on our way," Altair replied nonchalantly. "Would you let us through so we can get to our horses?"

"You, citizen!" a hoarse voice called. "Stay where you are!"

Altair, Faruq, and I whirled around to gape at the approaching voice. In the gate's mild torchlight, a stout Templar knight was illuminated, followed by a troop of what looked like no less than six equally armored men.

"What is your business here?" the man bellowed, planting himself a few feet from us.

"We need to pass the wall," Altair said calmly.

Damn Templars always swooping in at the worst possible times to stunt our path. Just once, couldn't they just apologize for the disruption and continue on their way? I admired Altair for staying composed when there was so much being thrown at him. We were largely relying on _him_ to get us through this confrontation and out of Damascus. Had I been in his shoes, I probably would have buckled over and started crying when everyone suddenly decided to depend on me for everything.

"Rather odd time to be leaving the city, don't you think?"

For the first time, I witnessed an act that I never imagined would grace my eyes. Altair reached into his waist pouch and presented a bulging purse whose contents were most definitely valuable. This leather sack he balanced almost playfully in his palm. What was he thinking? Bribe the Templars? How did that even fit into our list of options to begin with?

"I don't think it's an odd time at all," he proffered.

The Templar stared at the small pouch and scratched his beard greedily. "What are you proposing, friend?"

"Suppose I were to offer to Templars this gift as a show of my appreciation for their brave deeds in return for our passage through this gate."

"Hmm…Suppose I were to accept this gift on behalf of my fellow Templars and grant you such passage."

"T'would be an honorable thing to do, friend."

The knight nodded heavily and stood his ground, a peculiar expression on his face. It was one of both anticipation and…desperation. In perfect response, Altair approached his still form and extended his occupied hand, which the Templar shook cordially, receiving his bribe without so much as a blink.

As Altair backed away, the man motioned to the gate guards to disperse from their positions and make room for our departure. I couldn't believe it. It just did not seem possible that Altair would sink so low as to give money to a Templar, the very enemy that he devoted his life to extinguishing. His actions served as yet another testament to my ignorance as far as his character was concerned. We had busted our tails to get to the gate on time only for him to hand over some coins and be done with it. So what was it all for?

When we had finally cleared the city grounds, Altair scanned the stables for suitable steeds.

"Faruq, do you think you can ride?" he whispered, aware that the gate guards were still well within earshot.

"I can try, Brother. As long as we are not galloping the whole way."

"Good."

I stood on the sidelines while Faruq and Altair skimmed through the stables' occupants until they emerged with two sturdy-looking horses. Mud lined their manes and they moved a bit agitatedly, but they looked healthy enough. I could barely conceal my relief at seeing only _two_ animals. My last experience with horses had been far from pleasant. This time apparently, I would not be the one conducting.

"You're riding with me, _Shabah_," Altair said matter-of-factly.

I nodded readily and waited for him to mount the dark steed before attempting to heave myself up behind him. I was about to slide off in my failure when Altair reached back and pushed me back onto the saddle.

"You really don't belong here," he muttered.

"You just now figuring that out?" I mumbled back.

"Relax, _Shabah_. Nobody's had it easy since you arrived."

"I know," I sighed.

"But it's not your fault," he continued. "You didn't _ask_ to be brought here."

I was surprised by his sudden compassion. Maybe being out of the city chiseled a bit at the looming weight that pressed on his shoulders.

"Altair, why did you bribe the Templar?" I asked suddenly, curious about his sporadic behaviors.

"It was the safest option."

"But the Templars are your greatest enemy!"

"That man was not my enemy, _Shabah_. He was only following orders. He is more concerned with his coin than his honor. Had we encountered a more cultured knight I would have handled it differently."

"But…"

"I have to do what is best for your safety. It was the best option."

I stared at the slim space between us uneasily, deciding to leave well enough alone. For the first time since I arrived, I was struck with the oddity of being so close to a video game character. But he was so real that I couldn't see him as anything but human. He was so…_tangible_.

"I'm ready," Faruq whispered from beside us, his horse scuffling in the sand.

"Right," Altair nodded. "Hold on, _Shabah_."

I circled my arms around his ribs and leaned into his back. I could feel his muscles jump as he jerked the reins and started on the path towards wherever we were headed. I didn't actually know the plan, but it probably involved heading back to Masyaf. I would have asked had I not been so tired…and distracted. I couldn't get over being so close to Altair that I could _smell_ him. Granted, he was not his usual self, as he was missing all his Assassin flair, but it was still him.

"So where are we headed, Brother?" I heard Faruq ask, raising his voice above the thumping of horse hooves.

"Masyaf," Altair answered.

I smiled to myself. Maybe I knew him a little better than I thought. When in doubt, always assume that Altair will he heading back to Masyaf.

"Altair?"

"Yes, _Shabah_?"

"Thank you."

~.~.~.~.~

_ "Looks like her body's settling down."_

_ "I told you she was going to be fine."_

_ "I still don't trust it. She's been getting more and more suspicious."_

_ "Let her get as suspicious as she wants. She won't figure it out."_

_ "And if she does?"_

_ "Then we'll deal with it."_

_ "'Deal with it'?"_

_ "Oh, don't tell me you're having second thoughts. We've put too much into this to back out now."_

_ "Yeah, but…Did you hear the news this morning? They're looking for her."_

_ "Relax, would you? I've got it covered."_

_ "But what if they find us?"_

_ "They won't."_


	16. XVI: Taunt Me So

**Note ~ **New summary! Now that I got this whole thing kinda sorta figured out, I was able to write a more accurate sum-up. :D Also, I would greatly appreciate some feedback. Does it make sense so far? Or dollars?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair blinked away sleep as the sound of hooves slowed to a light trot. It was still dark out, but he could still see the wavering path in the moonlight. The desert moon was so bright, it was almost surreal.

"Altair," Faruq began. "I think we are far enough away. What do you say we stop for the night?"

"Huh?" Altair grunted, working to vacate his thoughts.

The luring stillness of the night had snaked its way into his consciousness, prying at memories of Sarah's arms. Try as he may to forget them, he couldn't bring himself to let go of their seemingly apparent significance. Maybe she had been brought to his world for a reason...

"Do you think we could stop for the night?" Faruq repeated patiently.

"Hmm…Do you see a side path for us to lay low in?" Altair was not about to sleep in the open, disguised or otherwise.

Faruq scanned the growing cliffside ahead of them. "I don't kn- Wait, what about over there, Brother?"

Altair followed Faruq's guiding hand and squinted in the scanty light. Right off of the main path was a small crevice of palms that swayed easily in the wind. They were unobtrusive and quiet, perfect for trying to appear inconspicuous.

"That'll do," he approved, leading his steed towards it.

When he reached the desired spot, Altair patted Sarah's arms, wary that she may have fallen asleep. "_Shabah_?"

To his surprise, she answered almost immediately. "Yeah?"

"We're stop-"

"I know, I know."

Altair winced at the sudden chill that replaced Sarah's arms as she pulled away from his back. "You were not asleep?" he asked.

"Why would I be?" she countered.

"Well, you usually are."

"Pfft."

"Do you have any food, Altair?" Faruq questioned, carefully dismounting his horse.

Altair slid off of his own saddle and began to rummage through his waist pouch. "I brought a little bread. If we need to eat again we can stop at a village or camp. This is just to get us by."

With this, he pulled a stumped loaf of dark bread from his belt and handed it to Faruq.

"Hey, can you help me down?" Sarah called, tugging on Altair's sleeve.

The Assassin sighed. She was so useless.

"Hold still," he warned as he reached for her squishy abdomen.

"Oh wait," she pressed, warding off his hands. "You're injured."

"It's alright, _Shabah_. You don't pose much a hindrance."

"Is that right? Well, I don't buy it."

Altair was forced to back away as Sarah tumbled her way down from the horse, landing with wobbly grace in the sand.

"There," she smiled, brushing herself off. "How's that?"

Altair stared at her humorously, admiring her attempt. "The way you move, it's a wonder you aren't an Assassin," he mocked.

"Hey, give it a rest. Nobody's perfect." Altair could have sworn he detected a hint of gayety in her tone. For the first time, she didn't seem so solemn.

"Here," Faruq interrupted, handing the bread back to Altair.

Altair nodded and broke what was left of the loaf in half, offering one crescent to Sarah.

"Mmm!" she beamed. "I was beginning to wonder if there was any real food in this place."

Altair stared at her quizzically for a moment before deciding to leave her to her bliss. He turned to observe the little hollow of palms that they stood in.

"No use trying to make a fire," he wondered aloud. "Faruq, I'll keep watch for a few hours. Then, we'll switch."

Faruq nodded between chewing and situated himself against a sizable tree. Altair and Sarah followed his movement and found their own palm to lounge on, a mutual feeling of ease overcoming them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So," Faruq began when we had all finished eating. "May I ask about that thing that fell out of your robe earlier?"

Altair visibly tensed as I pondered a response. "Depends on what you're asking," I finally said.

To be honest, I had all but forgotten about the incident with my ipod. Distraction after distraction had rendered it rather unimportant.

"What…umm…what is it?"

"Faruq," Altair broke in. "That device is nothing you should concern yourself with."

"Does it have something to do with why you're working so hard to protect this girl…why Laleh gave her life for her?"

I bit my lip until it bled. Why did everyone have to keep bringing her up. Why did she have to die for Altair and me to live? Zafar had told me to let her go. Well, how could I let go when I was constantly being forced to relive it?

"No, Faruq. Our friend here is being pursued by the Templars. All I'm trying to do is protect her until she can get home again."

Well, it was partially the truth. Altair had a fine way of buttering things up to the point where you felt his answers to be quite satisfying. Faruq thought for a moment and gazed up at the waxing moon. I began to fear that he saw me as hardly worth Laleh's sacrifice, and in that I would agree. Nobody was worth the life of another as far as I was concerned, especially mine.

"I see…What is you name then?" he asked suddenly.

"Umm…Just call me _Shabah_."

Of course, it sounded hideous with my American accent, but that was my new name. Altair had told me not to share my real one with anyone else, so _Shabah_ is was.

"Ghost? Is that-"

"That is what she is and what she will remain," Altair interrupted.

We really weren't helping Faruq find a reason to see Laleh's death as worthwhile. What was the point of sacrificing yourself for a ghost?

"Well," Faruq sighed, leaning into his tree. "At least we got out of the city without too much trouble."

"I'll say," I agreed. "No one even noticed my eyes."

"Well, it was pretty dark…Wait, what's wrong with your eyes?" Faruq asked.

"They're blue," Altair offered.

"Altair," I cut in, eager to prevent Faruq from asking about my ancestry. I couldn't stand telling another person that I was from England. "Why did we work so hard to get to the gate on time when all we had to do was hand over some money?"

Altair arched over to unbuckle his boot, "Because had we arrived any later the guards would have changed shifts."

"How did you know when they would switch?"

"I didn't. I just knew we had to get there as soon as possible. The night shift guards are always much more alert than the day shift."

"But that doesn't make sense…"

"Really? Think about it, _Shabah_. The Templars aren't naive. They know that if an Assassin is trying to escape the city, he would much rather do it with the shadows of night to aid him. Armed with this knowledge, both the Templars and the Damascus guard send their best men to watch the gates after dark."

"Is that what you meant by 'cultured knight' earlier?"

"Yes. The best Templars are the ones who are not in it for the gold, but rather for the ideal. The fanatics are dangerous and cannot be bargained with."

"Lucky for us, their lackeys _can_," Faruq chuckled.

"So…Can I wipe this stuff off my face now?" I asked hopefully.

Whatever Zafar had used on my skin was starting to make me sweat like crazy. It was like a thin layer of wool that stuck to me no matter how I tried to shake it off.

Altair snuck a glance at my darkened face. "Uncomfortable?"

"A little, yeah."

"Alright, just as long as you can keep your head low."

"Deal," I smiled as I rubbed at my eyes with my sleeve.

"You two get some rest," Altair advised sleepily.

"You sure you don't want _me_ to keep watch?" I asked, giving him my best alert look.

"Get some rest," he repeated.

Well, if he _insisted_ then I had no argument. Running through the streets like madmen had not exactly left me with much stamina to function on. I fumbled with a comfortable position on the tree until my exhaustion decided any spot would do, sending me plunging into my dreams.

~.~.~.~.~

_"Get me some coffee, would you?"_

_ "Cream?"_

_ "Nah."_

_ "Alright. Let me know what I miss."_

_ "Will do, though I doubt anything too exciting will happen. She's asleep."_

_ "Yeah well, you never know."_

_ "Just go get that coffee._

_ "Alright then, sweetheart. Looks like your brain is adjusting just fine. Hmm…Now would be the perfect time for that implant. You just sit tight and I'll get everything ready._

_ "Hmm…Looks like your body temperature is dropping at point zero one percent every three hours. At this rate, you'll deteriorate in a matter of days…Now don't worry, Sarah. We'll have this implant working in no time."_

_ "Here's your coffee. Hey, what are you doing?"_

_ "Her brain is in a state of calm. She's ready for the implant."_

_ "Good. That's a load off my back."_

_ "Tell me about it. It's a shame we couldn't integrate it at the very beginning."_

_ "Yeah well, we gotta take what we can get with this thing."_

_ "Check her muscle degeneration."_

_ "Let's see…Looks pretty normal."_

_ "And her blood pressure?"_

_ "A little low."_

_ "Hmm…Change the settings on her nutrient cycles."_

_ "Increase by how much?"_

_ "Let's try five extra grams every hour."_

_ "Done."_

_ "Then we can start with the implant. Monitor her status while I do this. If she goes under, there's no telling what will happen."_

_ "Monitoring. All systems are green. Go ahead."_

_ "Perfect. Cross your fingers."_

~.~.~.~.~

"Gah!" I gasped, clutching my head.

I had had weird dreams before, but that one took the cake as the most lifelike, torturous nightmare that my subconscious could ever materialize.

"What is it?" Altair yawned, trying to break out of his overbearing exhaustion.

I stared at him blankly. He may as well have been a talking elephant because he was just as strange-looking to me. I had been back to my time. I had _seen_ and _smelled_ and _felt_ my own world again. What was I doing back here? I couldn't hold it in any longer. My world was falling apart and I was getting dragged along with it by wishy-washy clues that only confused me further. The tears came in a flood of unbearable ignorance. I wanted my _home_. Damn my mind for teasing me with dreams about it! Nightmarish as it was, it was still my time.

"Hey!" Altair breathed, taken aback by my sudden croaking tears. "What's wrong with you?"

I choked up one last sea of loss and curled up in a tight ball in the sand. "N-noth-nothi-ing."

Altair scratched his head, confused. "What, did you have a bad dream or something?"

I bored into my knees with my fingernails, remembering every familiarity of my life before I had been so cruelly shoved into this world. "I-I s-s-saw my h-home…"

"Oh…"

"I w-want to g-g-go b-back, Altair…" I wiped at my eyes desperately, trying to stop the surges of longing that erupted in my chest.

"_Shabah_…"

I looked up at him with excruciating effort. I would have much rather just lost myself in my episode, which seemed to be becoming a common trait of mine.

"W-w-what?"

He hesitated. "We're going to get you home."

"…I-Is that a p-promise?"

"No."

My heart sank. "Oh…"

"It's a fact."

I managed to smile a little at his determination. He really was trying his hardest to help me. It wasn't fair for me to dump on him like this.

"Altair…I h-have a brother w-who's a l-lot like you."

Altair was about to protest against my sudden sentimentality, but for one reason of another, he caught himself. "You'll see your family again soon, _Shabah_."

I watched avidly as he leaned over to rouse Faruq. It was his turn to keep watch.

"Faruq," he whispered. "Faruq, wake up."

Faruq brushed his hand away and groaned. "Huh? Oh…" He pulled himself up and aligned his spine with the palm he was leaning on. "Okay, Brother. I will wake you in a few hours."

Altair nodded and fell back on his own tree, exhausted.

"Goodnight, Altair," I offered, but he was already asleep.


	17. XVII: Whisper

**Note ~ **This one's a little special to me. I was trying to channel some stuff that's going down right now so...this chapter was carved straight from my heart. Sarah's got some mud to wade through before this is done. :P

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Early warmth tickled my lashes until I could keep my eyes closed no longer. Sleep had all but dissipated from my body. In fact, I felt better than I ever had since I arrived. I flexed my toes and fingers, rolled my neck, and stretched my arms as high as they would go. What had changed to make me feel this spontaneous…_vitality_? I blinked curiously and observed the two unconscious Assassins who lay in the sand beside me. Apparently, whoever had been keeping watch had fallen asleep. So much for being alert.

The newborn sun peeked at me from behind the greying mountains, promising to rise in a few hours. I smiled at its ticklish warmth that was not quite fulfilling yet satisfactory just the same. It reminded me of the dull light that peered through my windows in the mornings just before school. My alarm would chime until I managed to find the willpower to switch it off. Then, I would stumble off into a welcoming hot shower.

It felt strange to think of my old routine as if I had just walked through it yesterday. It seemed silly and insignificant in this dusty, armored place. With each passing moon, I felt as though a fragment of my old life had been stripped away, cast into a never-ending void of forgotten memory. I feared that this pattern would continue until nothing more remained of my old heart, replaced by a false, broken one.

And yet, today felt different. I felt renewed almost, like all of my old freedom and youth had been planted right back into my hollowed bones. But this foreign power had failed to fill my empty stomach, which complained stubbornly in the breezy silence. Altair and Faruq had to be hungry too, right? What good was a lump of bread to two very healthy, very active men?

I watched them for a moment, waiting for one or the other to wake up and groan for food. They never did. I sighed and thought back on what Altair had told me before he fell asleep. He said I was going home and that was that. Well, how did he plan on following through with that plan while he dreamed happily in the sand.

I gazed at his sweaty, dusted face. His lips twitched every now and then, distorting the crooked scar that played upon them, and his breath came in a short staccato rhythm when they did. Faruq's restful expression was a little more colorful than Altair's. His lips were a hint fuller, eyes rounder, and skin lighter, making for an interesting orchestra of movement as he dreamed. But both men held the same strange cloud above their heads, that guardian that measured their every breath. It was like they were never allowed to act without first getting its permission. Maybe all Assassins had it. Maybe it was programed into their thoughts when they were young. Either way, it was more sinister than it was comforting.

I nudged Altair's arm gingerly. "Altair?"

Almost immediately after I touched him, his eyes were open and darting from side to side, searching for the threat.

"Altair," I repeated. "It's me."

His eyelids relaxed and he turned his head to look at me. "What do you want, _Shabah_?" he asked tiredly.

"Don't you think it's time we started moving again?"

He glared at the happily rising sun. "Hmm…I suppose it is." He frowned. "Faruq must have fallen asleep while keeping watch."

"Yeah," I confirmed. "You were both pretty tired, though. Besides, nobody came and tried to kill us."

"But we may have been tailed."

"By who? We got out of there clean."

"Never assume, little ghost. Anything can happen when you have your back turned."

I squinted suspiciously at him. Was he referring to Al Mualim's betrayal? Or maybe he was trying to force that watchful guardian thing on me. Either way, it was a conversation that I was in no mood to feed. It was my stomach that needed _that_ kind of attention.

"Listen, Altair. I'm starving and we aren't going to find any food sitting around here. Plus, if we _were_ tailed, I'm sure it would be smart to keep moving."

He stared at me for a moment, tapping his calloused fingers in the sand. "Fair enough, _Shabah_. I too would like something to eat. I'll get the horses ready while you wake Faruq. How's that?"

"Sounds good to me," I smiled, leaning on a nearby palm as I hoisted myself up.

Altair followed my movement with considerably more grace and made his way towards the resting horses. I scowled at his back. I could have sworn that he was showing off his limberness sometimes just to spite me.

"Faruq," I beckoned, crouching beside his limp frame. "Faruq, we're getting ready to move."

He blinked up at me and mouthed something drearily before he finally sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "Oh no…I must have fa-"

"It's alright, Faruq. You were tired. We're gonna go look for some food."

"Hmm…Food would be nice."

I glanced back at Altair, who was still busy unhitching the horses. I had some time alone with Faruq.

"Umm…Faruq?"

He stared at me openly, awaiting my query.

"I know that you probably don't want to talk about this. Trust me, I don't either, but I want to get it off my chest…"

"What is it, _Shabah_?"

"La-" I had to pause to clear my throat. "Laleh didn't deserve…_I_ didn't deserve…"

Faruq closed his hand around mine. "_Shabah_, if you're thinking that I doubt her decision, then you are mistaken."

"What?" I tried to pull my hand away, but he held it fast.

"I know she made the right choice. And I know that _I _am making to right choice by helping you get to wherever it is you need to be. You didn't ask to be saved, and it wasn't _your_ decision for her to die."

I stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of anger of contempt, but there was only peace. It was a beautiful, solitary freedom that spread through his entire expression. He had let go of Laleh, accepted her death. And yet there I sat, still wallowing in my guilt.

"But…It was-"

"Not your fault."

He gazed at me with the full extent of his sincerity until I cracked.

"Thank you, Faruq…"

"Hey!" Altair called. "Let's move!"

Faruq squeezed my hand a little before he let go to stand. I couldn't believe it. I had never experienced anything like the death I had seen in this world. I had never lost anyone close to me before…Now though, I knew what it was like, and I knew how to move on. It seemed bizarre that some man who didn't really exist had helped me move past my emotional disfunction. I laughed a little to myself as I followed him to the horses with Altair. Maybe I was going insane…

~.~.~.~.~

_"How is she doing?"_

_ "The implant has integrated itself into her system flawlessly. Her muscles are stabilizing, her neural receptors are active, blood water content average, and well, she's back with us again. Well done. I'm sure she notices the difference as well."_

_ "Thank God. Now the only way to go is forward. We won't have to worry about anymore setbacks."_

_ "But just remember, we're not out of the woods yet. We may have to move to our other facility."_

_ "Has something happened?"_

_ "No, not yet, but they're getting close. I'm not about to throw them a line."_

_ "Alright, then. We'll stay here for a few more days. We'd better start packing now, though."_

_ "I've already arranged for the power to this place to be cut. It needs to look as though no one has ever been here."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Look over there, Brother. I think it's a village."

Altair warded off the brightening sun with his hand and looked to the East, where Faruq was pointing. Indeed, sitting in a quaint valley beneath the cliffs was a good-sized village. However, it was still fairly distant. Altair guessed it would take at least an hour to reach. He didn't know if Sarah would last that long. Her stomach had been growling consistently since they set off on the road again.

"Do you see a way down to it?" he questioned, searching for a way off of their cliffside path.

"I think it may spiral down aways as we get further along this road," Faruq assured. "It might be best for us to keep to the shade, though. It's getting pretty hot."

"You can say that again," Sarah groaned.

"Why would I say it again?" Faruq asked curiously.

Sarah laughed into Altair's back. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Altair leaned to brush an insect from his horse's mane. "Well, it looks as though we won't be getting close for a while."

"Do you think there are any Templars there?" Sarah asked.

Altair thought for a moment. "I can't say for sure. If there are, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. We're all disguised."

"That reminds me," Sarah mused. "Where did you and Faruq leave your Assassin gear?"

"In the bureau," he answered simply. "The Rafiq will send it to Masyaf with a merchant or an informant." Faruq nodded in agreement.

"So you don't have any weapons?" I persisted.

Granted, they wouldn't be able to use them too well in their injured states, but weapons were a shining comfort in this Templar-infested time.

"Don't be naive, _Shabah_," Altair huffed. "I still wear my armor beneath these robes. As for weapons, we are never without our hidden blades."

I pulled one arm around and poked at his waist, finding his claim of being armored to be true. "Where are you injured, exactly?"

"I don't see how that is of any importance to you."

"Just so I know not to nudge you the wrong way."

"I doubt it would make much of an impact if you did, _Shabah_."

If he had a bra strap, I would have pulled it. "I don't remember you being this sarcastic in the game. A jerk maybe, but not sarcastic."

"Game?" Faruq questioned.

"It's nothing, Brother," Altair assured. "Pay no mind to her mad rantings."

Altair himself was still in denial about the whole game idea. The more Sarah reminded him of it, the more he wanted her gone so he could utterly banish her atrocious claims.

"I do not believe she is mad," Faruq persisted.

"But she speaks as such."

"Altair!" Sarah whispered harshly, thrusting her finger straight ahead.

"What is it?"

"I don't know…Looks like some people on horseback." Sarah had her neck craned to peek around Altair's torso.

Altair strained to see in the sandy breeze. Just as she she said, he could see at least three horses riding in their direction. They were too far away to identify, though.

"Could be missionaries," Faruq suggested.

"Maybe, but missionaries don't usually have the money for steeds, Brother."

Faruq leaned to get a better look, but his efforts were fruitless. "We'll just have to wait for them to get close enough to see clearly."

"Best to stay on our guard in the meantime. They could be Templars. _Shabah_, keep your head low and don't make any eye contact."

"Okay," she pulled her head back behind Altair and sighed. "What's our cover story?"

"Cover story?" Altair asked.

"Yeah…like our false identities."

"Ah, I see. We are nobles. Though you cannot see it, _Shabah_, they will be able to discern as much from our robes."

"I just don't see the difference…" Sarah mumbled.

"Be silent, _Shabah_. We will be within earshot soon."

To Altair's pleasant surprise, Sarah did not protest. He welcomed the silence that followed with open arms. This blissful quietude lasted for maybe twenty minutes until the approaching strangers were close enough to identify...

"Templars," Faruq breathed.

"If this gets confrontational, we may be forced to flee," Altair warned.

"No food?" Sarah whispered.

"Sorry, _Shabah_. We don't know yet."

"Let's hope they aren't in the mood to kill," Faruq muttered.

Altair glared at the advancing horses. "Templars are _always_ in the mood to kill."


	18. XVIII: Speak and I Will Wither

**Note ~ **Bleh, this chapter was more of a _necessity..._Had to take care of some loose ends. (Not in the mafia sense) Nevertheless, it was an _enjoyable_ necessity. But I'm super excited about the next chapter and I'm gonna start it tomorrow because it's my birthday. ^.^ Lots of revelations on the horizon...And to all you people still reading this gosh darn thing, here's a toast to your good health!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Good day to you," Altair greeted when we were within speaking range of our passerby Templars.

There were three of them, each with his own set of polished steel and mail, and each with his own pair of hollow eyes. They all looked of equal rank, like a trio of generals going for a stroll, only they looked more like they were on the road for business, not pleasure. The one who rode at the forefront of the group frowned with sunken cheeks as he scrutinized our rugged appearance. And yet, just as Altair had said, he assumed we were nobility from our garb.

"What is your business on this road, _hadher_?" he inquired, his voice rasped with a smokey suspicion.

All of the Templars seemed to have wary, sinister undertones when they spoke, just as the Assassins had their careful steadiness.

"My cousin and I have just taken our leave of Damascus," Altair provided. "We have just received news that my mother has fallen ill in Jerusalem."

I stayed silent as death. Being so close to three well-armed Templars made my skin crawl. If they noticed me, there was no telling what would happen. Nevertheless, curiosity always lurked in the foreground of my thoughts, imploring me to peek beneath Altair's arm to witness what was transpiring.

"Ah, and what is your mother's name?" the Templar asked darkly.

Altair's voice remained anchored, his thick accent flooding through his every word. "_Cala_, as she is to me," he answered.

"Ah, yes. That is an old name, to be sure. And you say she lives in Jerusalem?"

"She does."

"Mmm." he eyeballed Altair's robe meaningfully. "What is your trade, _hadher_?"

"I deal in textiles."

"Textiles, eh? And where are your goods? Surely one with your prestige would not travel without his dealing, correct?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would not. But when _amah_ is ill, I will not place coin before her."

The Templar smiled approvingly as opposed to the mockery I expected from him. "It is a good man, an honest man, who would care for his mother in such a way. It is to she that you owe your being. But how can a man's life prosper whence upon his mother's malady his trade is abandoned?"

Altair studied his twisted expression carefully, trying to come up with a proper response, I guessed. "It is not abandoned as you say. My brother stays in Damascus to overlook our affairs while I make this journey."

"Ah, and why does your own flesh and blood remain behind whilst your cousin accompanies you, good sir?"

I very nearly spat in the Templar's face. How many questions did he need to ask until he would be satisfied? It was like he was testing to see if killing us would prove worthwhile enough to share the story with his accomplices.

"Simple," Altair began flatly. "My brother is more experienced with the thread."

The ugly man slid into a low, growled chuckle. "Shrewd you are to manipulate the circumstance in your favor. I applaud your success. May your dear mother be granted a swift recovery."

"And may your travels be well," Altair countered.

And just as everything was going perfectly, I happened to poke my retched head a little too far out into sight.

"Ah, and who is this?" The Templar questioned, his interest returning.

Altair fidgeted on the saddle so as to conceal me more completely. "She is my consort."

"Hmm…So she is not for sale, then?"

All three of the Templars sprung into a glut of laughs. It was like the sound of a crashing train, as far as I was concerned. How _dare_ they think of me as a slave?

"No," Altair nearly snarled. He was working hard to keep his voice level now.

"Be wary, friend, as it is through _women_ that the devil weaves his darkest webs. It is wise to treat them as nothing more than their base understandings allow."

One more word and I was going to leap from the horse and claw at them until their flesh lay in a sorry pile in the sand. I couldn't stay quiet much longer.

"It is the truth you speak," Altair managed to grind from his lips. "You are a wise man, indeed."

"So I have been told," the Templar agreed. "You may continue on with your travels. _We_ have much business to attend to, as well."

"I thank you."

The three abominations snapped their reins and headed off towards Damascus, their heads held high in the gritted heat. Almost immediately after, Altair and Faruq continued in the opposite direction.

"Thank you, _Shabah_," Altair said suddenly.

It took me a few seconds to process what he had said. I'd been contemplating all of the ways I could have broken those Templars' necks since they left. My ears were clogged with their imaginary screams and pleads for their lives.

"Huh? Thank you for what?" I finally managed to respond.

"For remaining silent."

Had I not been so distracted by the Templars' vomitous behavior, I probably would have been annoyed by this. "Yeah…"

"Is something the matter?" Faruq questioned, giving me a curious look.

I stared back at him and tried to shake myself from my gruesome fantasies. "N-no. I'm fine. I just..."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Altair interrupted.

"I'm just not used to it."

"I was hoping to avoid that subject. The Templars view women as agents for the devil and tools for his deception. It is strictly forbidden for one to be taken as a wife or consort."

"Well, you handled it well enough," I commented, desperate to change the subject.

"Only a little longer now," Faruq announced, indicating the slowly enlarging village that lay in the valley below.

I sighed in relief, and if my stomach could sing, it would have. 'Only a little longer now' echoed in my head as I leaned back into Altair's shadow and shied away from the heaving sunlight. I was suddenly very grateful to him for insisting that I wear a veil.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So you say you deal in textiles?"

"Yes," Altair replied to a scrawny stable master. "We can compensate you handsomely."

"I must speak with my wife."

"As you wish."

Altair watched as the minuscule man disappeared behind the worn stable and into his adobe home.

"Where's he going?" Sarah asked.

Altair turned to face her and Faruq, who were puttering around in the sand trying to avoid the relentless heat. "He is speaking with his wife. I'm fairly sure he will let us stay here."

"Most likely," Faruq agreed. "It was wise of you to bring so much coin, Brother."

"The rafiq had a surprising amount on him."

Faruq laughed shortly. "That does not surprise me. He has always been quite the pickpocket."

"So I hear at Masyaf."

"No sign of any Templars so far," Sarah announced, staring out into the quiet village square.

The town itself contained one major well, which was the hot spot of social and political communication. It had taken a little under an hour to reach the village, and as Sarah said, there were no Templars in sight. There were only basket weavers and potters wandering the paths, along with the occasional group of children or aged men. As for the stable master Altair was attempting to negotiate with, he seemed apt to take the troupe's coin in return for temporary lodgings and food.

"Don't let your guard down," Altair cautioned. "We may not be the only ones in disguise."

"Leave it to you to ruin the peace of a Templar-less moment," Sarah murmured.

Just as Altair was about to retort, the twiggy man emerged from his home and approached the Assassin with eager eyes. He cleared his throat with strained effort.

"We don't have enough room in the house for all of you, but there is plenty of hay in the stable," he stated, seemingly hopeful that this would not deter his 'customers'.

"Very well," Altair nodded. "_Shabah_, you will sleep in the house. Faruq and I will stay with the horses."

Sarah stared at Altair in disbelief. "But, I'll be okay in the stable if one of you wants to sleep on a real bed. I'm not the one who's injured, remember?"

The Assassin ignored her request and focused his attention back on the stable master. "We have been riding for quite a while and would greatly appreciate some food if you have any to spare."

"Of course," he smiled assuringly and held out his dirty palm for his promised payment.

Altair stared at him for a moment before dropping a pile of filthy coins in his open hand. They jingled and clanked as the stable master clamped them in his pocket and nodded.

"I will get my wife to prepare something for you."

With this, he wandered back into his tiny home and left the three travelers standing outside of the odorous stable. Altair immediately set to work hitching the horses inside and laying out suitable lumps of hay for his and Faruq's bedding.

"You sure you don't want to sleep inside?" Sarah asked again, watching him fluff the bristly straw with Faruq.

Altair paused and shot her a sideways glance. "Leave it be, _Shabah_. Don't wander from too far away from us, either. I don't want to have to help you escape another Templar camp."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After maybe ten minutes, the stable master appeared around the side of the stable and beckoned us back towards his lumpy sun-warmed home. Altair and Faruq had to duck to get through the doorway, but once inside, the ceiling was rather high. There were scattered bowls and primitive tools accompanied by the simple furnishings of the place. I had never seen a home so tiny, nor so bland. Unlike the cities, these rural villages lacked the undulant colors of floor cushions and painted decanters. There were one or two rugs laid on the dusty floor that attempted to shine with dull blues and golds, but they made little impact on the small home's atmosphere.

We sat ourselves at a similarly quaint table in the room's center and indulged in the delightful scent of food. At this point, it did not matter what it was, as long as it was some sort of edible substance.

"Here you are," a calloused throat offered.

I followed the voice to a stout, short haired woman of around thirty or so. Her brow looked as though it was permanently furrowed and her lips constantly tugged to the floor by a hungry frown. Still, the food she was presently laying out before us was a ray of sunshine in our eyes. It smelled of tangy spices and some kind of cooked meat, but it was one I was unfamiliar with.

"Ah, that looks delicious. Thank you, _sai'd a'dri_," Altair declared warmly.

She nodded quickly and left the room to join her husband at the village well.

"Why did she leave?" I asked before anyone could dig in.

"There is a village meeting at the well," Altair answered shortly.

"Meeting about what?"

"I don't know. It may have something to do with the Templars we saw on the road."

"Shall we?" Faruq smiled, reaching for the platter of food that lay at our noses.

"What is it?" I questioned, eyeing it quizzically.

Truthfully, I didn't really give a darn as long as it was food, but my curiosity begged me to learn more about our mystery meal before we ate.

"Chicken," Altair said simply.

I stared at him in disbelief. There was no way that was chicken. It smelled more like fish…or maybe beef. Anything but chicken, really.

"Umm…Is it-"

"Does is really matter, Shabah?" he broke in, annoyed. "You've been begging for food for hours. Don't tell me you're going to turn this down."

"Of course not! I was just curious…"

~.~.~.~.~

"_So she finally gets some real food, eh?"_

_ "If only we were so lucky."_

_ "Yeah, but it could be worse."_

_ "I suppose."_

_ "Altair's been acting a little strange, don't you think?"_

_ "How so?"_

_ "I don't really know how to describe it just because it seems so out of place…Can I take a look at the logs?"_

_ "Yeah, sure. Let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary."_

~.~.~.~.~

I leaned back in my chair happily. For the first time since whenever it was I had appeared here, my stomach was in a state of total and absolute _bliss_. I stared at the empty plate of 'chicken' that we had devoured in a matter of minutes between the three of us. Faruq had eaten the most, but then again, he was the bulkiest of all of us.

But now that my stomach was satisfied, my sense of adventure started to kick in, begging me to wander around this village and snoop into interesting corners. I still felt the same renewal that I had experienced when I woke up this morning. Maybe it was because the sun shone so brightly…or because I was finally out of Damascus. In any case, I felt slightly more at ease than I had a few days ago.

"Can we take a walk?" I asked suddenly, putting on my best pleading face.

Altair glanced over at me and frowned. "A walk?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "I would like to relax for once, but you said I couldn't go alone. So…"

"I will go with you," Faruq volunteered, brushing a tousle of curls from his eyes.

"Alright, then," Altair said blankly. "I'll walk among the villagers to see if there really may be Templars here. You must be back at the stable by nightfall."

"Sounds good," I agreed, scooting out of my chair.

Finally, I would be able to walk without fear of pursuit or being jailed or kidnapped. So what if we hadn't got anywhere closer to finding me a way home? We all needed a break.

Faruq and I strolled out into the sunlight that struck the town square, joining the edge of the crowd of people who dallied there. There was a chorus of mumbling centered around an old, crippled woman who held a withered staff in her only hand. She stood airily among the villagers and gazed at them through impassive eyes.

"What do you think is going on?" Faruq asked, observing the scene with interest.

"I don't know…Maybe she's a witch or something."

Faruq shot me an odd look. "She's too calm to be a witch, _Shabah_."

"Too _calm_?"

"Yes. All of the witches I've seen were clawing to walls and screeching about their lost gods. That woman seems rather docile."

"You've seen many then?"

"Many what?"

"Witches."

"…Not an incredible amount. We encountered several in Acre when Sibrand had power over the ports. They were mostly the wives of merchants whose ships were commandeered and trades ruined."

"What happened to them?" I questioned, noting a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"They were…mad. They would roam the streets and cry out prophecies, sometimes even attack other citizens. Perhaps it was because their husbands took their losses out on them and drove them to act in such a way."

"So what happened?" I asked again. He was avoiding the question.

"We…we eased their suffering, or so Al Mualim claimed it to be."

"_Eased_?"

Faruq gazed at me with an intense regret, like he was about to tell me about his drunken car accident from which he was the only survivor. "We killed them, _Shabah_."

The mumbles around us bubbled to a loud zenith as the estranged woman began to call out, stamping her cane in the sand.

"_Wa'sou wuf'a fahta sani al hika la det h'lou couri e'tana!_" she announced above the crowd's low noise. Her voice crackled with the scars of speaking.

There it was again; the Arabic. I fidgeted with my robe awkwardly and looked to Faruq, who was listening intently. What had she said?

"Faruq?"

"_Le Shabah halen_," he whispered, holding up a hand.

The small mass of villagers discussed whatever the woman had mentioned amongst themselves, their voices fluctuating with excitement. Faruq kept his gaze locked on the crumpled woman as she observed her listeners.

"She is no witch," he finally said.

I exhaled happily. Unless I suddenly understood Arabic, he was speaking English again, but I was not sure how long it would last. "What is she, then?"

"An Assassin."

I don't know how long I stood there staring at him like he was crazy, my jaw hanging a little in the non-existent breeze. "W-what?"

Faruq took hold of my arm with the utmost tenderness and led me away from the crowd, starting us along a narrow path of homes.

"It's a long story, _Shabah_."

"We've got all the time in the world," I lied.

We had no time at all, constantly pulling hours upon hours from invisible deposits of debt. Our time was false. It was empty, and the longer and longer it stretched, the farther I became from my home.

"That woman was once Al Mualim's consort," Faruq blurted out, his voice slightly hushed.

Before his words had time to register in my thoughts, he continued.

"She was accused of betraying the Creed, betraying her companion. The Grand Master had her left arm removed so as to prevent her commitment to any man. As he had seen, she would only break it. He did not believe in killing women, so he exiled her from Masyaf and stripped her of any social status she may have held."

"But…" I stammered, stunned by this sudden outburst of Al Mualim's past. "What did she do?"

Faruq smiled humorously. "Nothing. The real traitor was the Assassin who accused her. He convinced the Grand Master that she was leaking information to the Templars and using Al Mualim as her source."

"What?" I gasped. "What happened when they found out?"

"The Grand Master killed the traitor himself, but did not accept the girl back into the Assassins' care." He looked down at his boots doubtfully. "I had heard rumors but I didn't think…"

"Didn't think what?"

"She wears our seal around her neck and she preaches to these people about rebelling against the Templars…"

"That's what she was talking about?"

"Yes, _Shabah_. Didn't you hear her?" He turned to pass me a puzzled gaze.

"Uhh…No, I guess I couldn't hear her over the villagers…"

How was I to tell him I couldn't understand Arabic? I was fairly certain we weren't actually supposed to be speaking English…

"Well, it seems that she is an Assassin in her own spirit. She is helping the people who we cannot reach so easily. How strange that we should happen upon her like this," he mused.

"How do you know it's her?" I asked, curious. If he had only ever heard of her in rumor, then how could he be certain it was the same woman?

"I've heard her voice before…"

"Really?"

"When I was very young…She would speak to the Assassins in the training circle at the end of each week. She told stories about brave men and fearful men. It was her words that remind me of the personalities of my targets."

"Do you…want to talk to her?" I finally asked.

"No, _Shabah_. We have more important things to worry about."

So Al Mualim had a love life, a companion who was like a mother to the little Assassin whelps. I stared at him, trying to imagine what he looked like with Altair and Malik in the training circle, listening intently about the predictions of certain breeds of men. I couldn't help but think back to my own mother. Maybe she had been spared the days of my absence. Maybe, by some miracle, time had stopped on my end. Maybe…

"Anyway," Faruq continued. "We'd better find Altair and tell him that those Templar's we saw on the road were coming from this town."

"Did she say that?"

"In a way, yes."

"So more may be on their way?"

He nodded in affirmation. "It's possible, which means we will probably leave here during the night. If they see that woman, they're bound to search for Assassins."

"We won't even stay until the morning?" I pressed, feeling sick to my stomach.

"I don't know. We'll have to discuss it with Altair."

"Well, I'm glad we could have this _pleasant_ walk, Faruq," I sneered. "It seems like everything we do gets quashed by Templars…"

"Just a benefit of traveling with Assassins, _Shabah_."


	19. XIX: Scarlet

**Note ~** Thanks yet again for reading, everybody! It's you guys who make writing this worthwhile. ^.^

_SuddenSummerStorm ~ _I will be honest about the Arabic thing. I type what I want into Google translate, listen to it, and type it out phonetically. That is the extent of my Arabic. :P Also, I must say that I did a serious facepalm when I realized that about Sarah's name. There's not much I can do to remedy that duff-up, so I urge you to just roll with it. And yes, Zafar was just being Zafar. :D Apart from all that, thank you so much for reviewing!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"Send it."_

_ "What if she doesn't find it?"_

_ "Have a little faith."_

_ "And Altair?"_

_ "He's got something planned."_

~.~.~.~.~

"So what do you think, Altair?" Faruq asked. "Should we continue on our way?"

Altair shook his head decisively. "No. We could all use this time to rest a little. Besides, we are still disguised."

"But if that woman rallies a rebellion, we will be doubtlessly be involved."

"True, but that is a risk I am willing to take. I must speak with this woman."

"Do you remember her, Brother?"

"I do…"

Sarah stared at the two Assassins awkwardly. They shared a memory of the storyteller that seemed to bar down on them like an iron rose. But Altair appeared to know something that Faruq did not. He would gaze in the distance in-between thoughts and mouth some inaudible stream of words, then snap back to the moment again. It was like he was switching between two different folds of time, constantly flipping his consciousness between them.

"Altair?" she finally asked.

"Yes, _Shabah_?"

"Are you alright?"

Altair stared at her blankly. "How do you mean?"

"You just seem kind of…distant."

"I assure you that I am perfectly fine, _Shabah_."

Sarah looked unconvinced. "Okay, then..."

"Anyway," Altair continued. "We will stay here for the night and move again at dawn."

"Looks like the sun is about to set," Faruq commented, observing the coloring sky.

Strange purples and scarlets creeped upon the clouds as they twirled in a sharp chorus of stone. It seemed as though they were protesting against the sunset, using all of their power to prevent it by petrifying in the sky.

"Do the Templars move at night?" Sarah asked.

"I couldn't say, _Shabah_," Altair sighed. "It depends on the knight in charge."

"So shouldn't somebody keep watch?"

"No. We are not so exposed this time, so it should be safe to sleep through the night."

Sarah nodded quietly and planted herself in the sand beside the stable. Faruq busied himself with grooming the horses while Altair set out into town to find the woman Assassin.

He scanned the darkening village for her presence, which seemed to shine with a luminescent light. She sat at the well, gazing prophetically out towards the clouds, her body swaying only slightly with her breath. At first glance, one could have taken her for a doll, a broken, weathered doll. Like Sarah, most of her senescent visage was concealed by thread, but Altair did not need to see her face to know that she was the same storyteller from his childhood. She had the same quiet poise that drew her into an independent light no matter where she stood. In this case, she was a beacon.

Altair approached her with his own quiet swiftness and stood beside her at the well, following her gaze to the sky. She seemed to take no notice.

"It has been many years," Altair remarked casually.

"You know why I am here," she said simply, without turning her head.

"I can guess."

"How long do we have?"

"A minute, maybe two."

"That's long enough. I'm glad I was able to get Faruq's attention. You need to swallow this," she directed, presenting a minuscule dark seed from her pocket. "You must do it quickly, else they will detect it's conductivity."

Altair nodded and slipped the small tablet from her palm and into his mouth, swallowing crookedly. He scowled for half a second before gaining his composure again.

"How long has it been?" he asked huskily, a foul taste still lingering in his throat.

"A little more than a week."

"How long must we wait?"

"We must remain dormant until they reveal themselves."

"And what of my body?"

She hesitated, her eyes taking on a searching expression. "You should return to your duties, Assassin. The sun has set too far already."

Altair stared at her questioningly for a few seconds before he understood her meaning, taking on his previous demeanor. "Safety and peace, _Cala_."

She looked at him then, her starless eyes overflowing with longing, like there was so much she had left to say...But they were out of time. "On you as well, Altair."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The moon was already reaching to the sky when Altair returned from his meeting with the strange woman. I stared at him curiously as he strolled warily towards the stable where Faruq and I sat. A part of me was still nagging about how odd he was acting. What did he want with that lady anyhow? It was like he knew something he shouldn't…

Faruq started at his Brother's approach, shuffling to his feet, then nearly toppling over again as his wound pained him.

"Faruq," Altair began, his voice lowered to a dark tone. "Do you suppose there is a smith about?"

The Assassin glanced at the sky thoughtfully. "I do recall seeing one, Brother, but I am not sure if he is still working."

Altair turned his attention to me. "_Shabah_, it would be best for you to get some sleep, now. I'm sure our host and his wife have already prepared your bed."

I stared at him in disbelief. It must have been somewhere around six o'clock. There was no way I was going to sleep that early. I was certain that he just wanted me out of his worries so he and Faruq could go browse for weapons at the smith's. Well, he was not going to rid himself of me so easily.

"I'm coming with you," I argued. "It's too early to sleep."

"Most of the village have retired to their homes," he retorted, slightly agitated. "Please, _Shabah_. We have little time to waste."

"And I have little tolerance for going to bed this early."

"It might be best to get her a weapon as well, Altair," Faruq broke in calmly. "It will be a while before we get to Masyaf."

Altair sighed and waved me over as he followed Faruq in the direction of the blacksmith. When we finally arrived at his small workshop, there was only a dim candlelight illuminating his window. We could also hear the distinct sound of giggles and heavy breathing echoing from within. It didn't take us long to discern what was going on.

Faruq knocked twice on the door and we patiently awaited a response. My cheeks burned with color as the noises got louder and I attempted to shroud my face in the lengthening shadows. Why did we have to come at a time light this? Couldn't we just turn around and leave? It was obvious the blacksmith was not…working at the moment.

Before I could express my protests, Faruq landed another three knocks on the wood, much louder than before. This time, they were heard. There was a agitated bustling sound, then the tugging of fabric. I glanced over at Altair. Only his lips were illuminated in the candle's range, but I could detect the slightest hint of a smirk on them. He and Faruq didn't seem to mind that they were interrupting. In fact, they seemed to be almost _entertained_ by it.

Suddenly, the door was flung open with furious tension, revealing a very sweaty, hairy man with a long nose and slanted, glistening eyes. He held his unfastened breeches at his waist and glared at us menacingly.

"What do you _want_?" he snarled, his voice deep and guttural.

I flinched a little at his tone. Were all blacksmiths this intimidating? Unlike me, Altair remained rooted in place, despite the threatening stance of the man in the doorway. He also managed to keep his voice composed, which seemed to irk the smith.

"We would request your services. You are a smith, correct?" Altair questioned.

"That I am, but you'll have to come back tomorrow. I'm a little _busy_ at the moment."

Altair reached in his waist pouch and presented another one of those leather purses that jingled with coin. "Make an acceptation."

The burly man eyed the bulging pouch, then the three of us, then the pouch again. I also stared at Altair's bargaining chip. How much money did he have? He just seemed to pull it out of nowhere and use it to get whatever he wanted. I had been more familiar with the 'kill everyone and move on' tactic. It was possible he was just trying to do everything with a minimal amount of bloodshed, for all our sakes.

Finally, the blacksmith sighed heavily and held up a hand. "I would have you wait out here for a moment," he said resignedly.

Altair nodded and the man disappeared back into his home. There was an angry huff from within, followed by what sounded like an insult from a phantom female's throat. Soon after, a woman with skin darker than Altair's and less clothing than a caveman stormed out of the house and stalked on down the sandy path. Altair and Faruq looked after her for a moment before turning back towards a chuckling blacksmith.

"She'll be back," he jeered. "Now, what is it you need exactly, _Sadiqi_?"

"We require weapons," Altair said simply.

"Ah, well I'm sure I have something suitable. Come," the smith beckoned, motioning with his arm.

We followed him into his workshop, which was mostly covered in thick shadows. Only the corner with his forge was illuminated, which was also where the small candle burned. I stared in interest at his metal-working setup. He had a spate of tools, some large and some not so, hanging on hooks upon the wall and his forge glowed with an inexhaustible orange hue that would dim and spark dynamically. There was a barrel of water beside his anvil that smoked with cooled metal.

"Now, what exactly did you have in mind?" he asked.

I marveled at how incredibly deep his voice was. It held a unique fluctuation that sounded almost melodic as he spoke, more like he was singing than speaking.

"Longswords," Altair replied. "But we need light ones."

"No such thing as a _light_ longsword, friend," the smith chuckled.

"Do we look like novices to you? I do not refer to feathers."

The smith nodded. "Well in that case, I _do_ have a couple of light longswords."

He sifted through his selection until he found what he was looking for: two stunted longswords with thin tips and gleaming hilts. He lay them, along with their sheaths, on his worktable and folded his arms across his chest, waiting. Altair and Faruq scrutinized the weapons approvingly. As for me, I stood in the shadows and watched. I did not belong in a blacksmith's. The closest I had gotten to swords were the replicas that my brother was so fond of. I could barely even open a jar of jelly, much less hold a weapon.

"These will do," Altair remarked, running a finger along the length of the blade. "We will also need a dagger. This time, I do mean feather-light."

I glared at him. There was no doubt he was speaking of what would be _my_ weapon. Of course he was right, but I couldn't help but be a little agitated.

The smith turned back to his swords. "It's not often that I see men of your…prestige in here," he commented, whirling around with a thin dagger in his hands. "My last customers were those rotten knights who swept through here." He lay the small weapon on the table and Altair nodded, dumping a large sum of coins beside the three blades.

"Do you know where they are headed?" Faruq questioned.

The man shook his head. "That I don't. I tell you, though. One man's coin is as good as another's, but I sure don't like catering to those scums' needs. They just ravage through the village until they get what they want, and then move on down the road."

"But they pay?"

"_Na'am_. But even so, they still act like animals."

"You have our thanks," Altair interrupted. "We should be on our way."

"_Wadaa'an_," the smith smiled shortly. "Your patronage is appreciated."

Altair and Faruq claimed their weapons from the table and hitched them to their belts. Faruq snagged mine as well and we made our way back towards the stable master's home. Only when we were a considerable distance from the smith did he hand me my blade. It was heavier than it looked and I nearly dropped it on my foot trying to grasp it.

"Thank you," I breathed, observing it in the moonlight.

"Do you know how to use it, _Shabah_?" Altair asked doubtfully.

"Not exactly…"

He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Then I suppose you will need some lessons."

"Lessons?"

"When we get to Masyaf," he clarified.

"But what if I need it before then?" I challenged.

"I think it's safe to assume you know which side is which. That should be enough for now."

He spoke as if I would be needing it in the future, like there was some battle that we had to prepare for. I yawned heavily and snuck a glance at the moon. It was nearly full, its belly shining gleefully down on us in the blackened sand. I had never experienced such a watchful night sky, nor such a glimmering moonlight. It was just as magnificent as the noontide sun that threatened to swallow everything up in its heat. The desert truly was a place of exuberant brightness.

It was so unreal to me, being so unlike the atmosphere of my home. I began to wonder if Altair had any idea what forests and maple trees looked like. It seemed wrong to think of him standing on a mountain with moose and black bears. He _belonged_ in this place, as did Faruq. Watching them meld with their own home made me miss mine even more. I longed for my time with my family and _my_ moon.

I barely noticed when we arrived at our destination. "We will see you at sunrise, _Shabah_," Altair said, tugging me from my thoughts.

I nodded dreamily and wandered into the stable master's house as the two Assassins made their way toward the stable. Inside the home, the small man and his wife were already asleep, snuggled up beside each other in their bed, which was mostly concealed by thick drapery. I used the moonlight that shone through the windows to avoid tripping over loose pots and utensils as I found the way to my own bed, which looked quite desirable in comparison to the stack of rugs Zafar had provided for me.

I curled up in my single woolen blanket and slid into a slow rhythm of breathing as I tried to empty my thoughts. Thinking of my home would not help me sleep. After several minutes of struggling, my exhaustion finally got the better of me and took me into its arms.

~.~.~.~.~

It was my dining table, just as I remembered it. My family was sitting happily in their usual seats, smiling up at me as they beseeched me to join them. I stared at them with so much longing I was sure that I would melt. Part of me knew they weren't real, that I was just imagining, but I wanted so badly to join them, to sit with them again.

I was just about to move into my empty spot when Altair strolled into the room, giving me a grievous look. My family didn't seem to notice his presence. They just continued in their bliss. But when I looked back, I saw their faces morphing into blurs of unrecognizable flesh and their bodies crumpling over the table. I tried to cry out to them, tried to call their names, but my voice was gone.

Desperately, I looked to Altair, who was watching the sight sadly. He met my gaze and a small tear inched its way down his copper cheek. He reached out to me, and I saw a thin blade in his hand, like the one on his wrist only without its bracer.

I lay my palm over the weapon and felt its metallic chill pierce through my veins. As I did so, the melting bodies of my family exploded into a sea of blood that stained the room, as well as me. Altair gripped my hand against the blade as I tried to pull my voice from wherever it had ran. I tried so hard to scream as my eyes gushed over with my own blood, spilling down my cheeks in an endless fountain of crimson tears.

Then, it was gone. The room and the blood had become an infinite expanse of light. I squinted in its glare as my tears turned clear again and splashed on the whiteness beneath me. I closed my eyes in submission and dropped to my knees as Altair released my hand. When I looked back at my palm, the seal of the Assassins shone back at me. Blood began to seep from its lines and traced the veins of my arm until it reached my elbow, where it took the shape of an eagle in flight. I felt Altair's hand on my shoulder as the ground disappeared beneath me and sent me plunging into a sea of darkness.


	20. XX: Curled Corpse of Numbers

**Note ~ **I just wanna say that even though the fancy little chart shows all you guys as numbers, you're more than just a number to me. :D There's just so many stand up people wandering around hereabouts, and it's such an adventure to see the different cultures that pop up outa nowhere. So thank you once again for reading! You guys bring many smiles!

_SuddenSummerStorm ~_ Thank you! I appreciate the support! ^.^ And I'm glad I _look_ like I know what I'm doing. :P**  
**

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair's lips twitched instinctively as a wandering insect found it way upon them. His eyelids fluttered open as he brushed it away with the back of his hand. The warm sound of buzzing wings tickled his ear, but as he listened more closely, he could detect a more disturbing noise from somewhere behind the stable. He closed his eyes again to focus on the sound. There was a repetitive thumping, accompanied by the harsh gasps of a hopeless sob.

Curiosity ruled his limbs as he pushed himself to his feet, careful not to disturb Faruq, who was sleeping peacefully in the hay. It was still very late and the moon still shone with a relentless voice in the small village. Who could be awake at this hour?

Altair stretched out of pure necessity before making his way around the side of the splintered stable. He rubbed his eyes sluggishly to clear his vision as he rounded the edge of the structure. What he saw crumpled in the sand a few yards away was too sorry a sight to judge. Illuminated in a curved patch of moonlight was the small ghost. He had never seen her so broken. Her entire body trembled and quaked as muffled sobs caught in her throat, and her veil lay discarded in the sand beside her. Dark curls fell all around her as she slumped into the ground and wept.

Altair watched, too struck to move, as the pallor girl reached into her pocket and pulled out the strange device that was her existence. Without warning, she let out a heaving gasp as she sent the object singing through the air and into the sand ahead of her. It landed with a light thump and she proceeded to watch it continuously with her piercing irises, which Altair imagined to be considerably bloodshot. By the looks of things, she had been crying for quite a while, and it did not seem that this was the first time she had thrown the strange device.

He wanted to say something, _anything_, that would pull her out of whatever trench she had fallen into only hours before. What could have happened to make her so despondent? Was it another nightmare? Was it getting worse? He was grateful that her back was facing him. Surely she would have run at the first sight of someone else in the state she was in.

"What do you _want_?" she whispered suddenly, a furious harshness in her breath.

Altair froze. How had she seen him? He was about to open his mouth in a reluctant response when she spoke again, this time with a hint of hysteria in her tone.

"Three, two, one. And you're back!" she snarled.

Her hand dipped into her pocket again and she chuckled humorlessly as she retrieved the same black device from its depths. The one she had thrown was now missing from the sand. It was then that Altair realized she was not speaking to him. She was talking to the machine. Just as this occurred to him, her back arched in another stream of strangled sobs.

So she had been right about never putting the strange device in her robe after changing. It had fallen out of her pocket in Damascus. It had _followed_ her. Altair began to wonder how many times she had thrown it just to test this fact. How long had she been alone out here in her misery to soak in her own tears?

He had to stop her. He simply couldn't afford to have her crumpling up and deteriorating when there was so much left to do. At least, that's what he would have liked to tell himself. An incessant piece of his stomach turned every time he saw Sarah suffer. She just didn't deserve it, any of it, and the sooner she could get home, the sooner life would become a littler brighter for _everyone_.

"_Shabah_," he said dimly, so as not to frighten her.

Almost immediately after his voice ceased its vibration, she was scrambling to her feet and twisting her gaze to peer at every darkened crevice around her. Her sobs retreated to a quiet sniffling as she struggled to follow his noise.

"Are you alright, _Shabah_?" he attempted to ask.

She whirled around frantically and froze when she caught sight of the stilled Assassin. "A-Altair?" she whispered. Her voice was barely audible in the noise of the night's silence.

"Yes, _Shabah_, it's me," he confirmed.

"I-I…What are y-you doing here?" she stammered, clutching her discarded device against her chest.

"I could ask you the same."

Her gaze fell to the ground. "I m-must have sleepwalked…"

Altair frowned. Did she honestly think him so base that he would fall for such a ruse? "What's troubling you, little ghost?" he asked. "I know you didn't sleepwalk yourself over here."

She hesitated. "It's nothing…"

Altair sighed irritably and leaned against the stable wall. "Out with it, _Shabah_. I don't have the time to waste on your games."

"If it's a game I play, then it is _yours_," she snarled, locking her strained irises with his.

"And what game is this?"

"It is one of silence," she whispered, her eyes sinking back to the sand.

Altair raked his memory for her meaning. What had he told her to make her vow silence? Then, he remembered. He had warded off her attempts at sharing her other world with him. He didn't want to know anything about her. He had given her a new name. Ghosts were silent.

"So this is about your…world?" he questioned, gathering her meaning.

She leveled her gaze with his once more, her swollen eyes giving him the answer he sought.

"Then I will hear it," he said calmly. "If it would calm your nerves."

Sarah stared at him incredulously, like he had just told her she was recovering from a deathly illness. Her mouth fumbled with words as she averted her gaze towards the distant cliffs.

"Would you try for me, Altair?" she finally pleaded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Try what?"

She limped over to him and reached for his left palm, inside of which she placed her odd device. Gently, she curled his fingers around it and pulled away, staring at him intently. Altair flinched at her touch. Her skin was so smooth, like she had never climbed a building or wielded a splintering sword.

"Throw it as far as you can," she instructed, taking another step back.

"Won't it just come back, _Shabah_?"

"I'm not ready to believe that yet…"

Altair nodded in compliance and pulled his arm back in preparation. With a silent grunt, the dark object went ripping through the chilled air and behind an expanse of short plateaued rock. The thump it was presumed to make never reached his ears, which seemed to satisfy Sarah a great deal. She smiled slightly and closed her eyes, waiting.

"Is it-"

Altair's question was answered prematurely as a heavy frown tugged on Sarah's lips. "Yeah…I can feel it back in my pocket."

"Is this the reason you came out here?"

"No…Well, not really anyway." She joined him on the stable wall and sunk into the sand, sitting neatly beside him as he repositioned himself into a tired lean. "I had another dream…" she began, her voice hushed.

"And?"

"Every time the sun sets…I feel…It feels like another piece of me is stripped away. And then I dream…I dream about things that are never there. I'm not…"

Altair looked down to see her staring blankly ahead, lost in thought. "What is it?"

"I'm…I'm scared," she breathed. The confession was so quiet Altair was almost sure he had imagined it until she continued. "It's hard to…remember what they look like anymore…"

"Who?" he asked, trying to sound as composed as possible. He did not relish the thought of nurturing her depression.

"My family…Every day it gets a little harder. Every minute feels like I'm being pulled farther and farther away from everything I thought I knew. It's like someone's sucking my very _blood_…and then leaving me as a drained husk of who I once was…"

Altair swallowed dryly. He hadn't expected anything like _this_. She was falling apart the longer they spent trying to find her way home. But what could he do? What could _anyone_ do?

"And this _thing_!" she spat suddenly, yanking the device from her pocket. "It just keeps reminding me that I don't belong here!"

She flipped open its cover and hissed as it flashed to life in her eyes. There on the screen was the symbol too small to see, too vague to recognize. It was almost like she _knew_ what it was already. She was just being prevented from realizing it.

"Is that all of it?" Altair asked, shifting his shoulder slightly.

"All of what?"

"Is that what was bothering you?"

Sarah glared up at him for half a second, then sighed and abandoned the effort. "Yeah, I guess that's all of it."

Altair reached to pull her light frame from the ground and situated her squarely beside him. "You think you can sleep now?"

"I can try…"

"Is that the attitude you carry with you everywhere, _Shabah_?"

She stared at him vacantly.

"Tell me, how do you plan to get back to where you belong by crawling around on your hands and knees?" he pressed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's _your_ choice whether or not to lose your precious memories," he resolved tiredly.

With this, he wandered back into the stable and out of sight, leaving a dumbfounded Sarah to stare after him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"So what did you find?"_

_ "Slight discrepancies in his brain wave synchronization. His thoughts are going off track..."_

_ "What are you saying?"_

_ "I'm saying he's thinking for himself."_

_ "What? Could it just be a glitch in the system?"_

_ "This is no glitch. I don't know how he's been able to hide it this long, but his brain has been working independently since day one."_

_ "And independent brain? But that would mean…"_

_ "We have to pull her out before it's too late."_

_ "No! We've gone too far to give up now!"_

_ "Listen to yourself! Either we pull her our or we leave tonight!"_

_ "Then we're leaving."_

_ "And what of Altair?"_

_ "Find the source. I want those frequencies tracked."_

~.~.~.~.~

_"What's his status?"_

_"There's nothing more we can do to stop the degeneration. They're running out of time."_

_"Looks like they're finally moving. Monitors are disabled…There! An opening in their receptor sequences…Now's our chance."_

_"Roger. We're good to go. Patching it through."_

_"God, Sarah. I hope you get this."_

I blinked at the empty air that Altair had occupied a few seconds ago. He sure had a way about him that made the simplest fear seem pointless and insignificant. To him, fear was worthless. And the worst part was, I knew he was right. It _was_ my choice. My memories were fading because I was _letting_ them fade. I was so caught up in the unfortunate circumstances that I was losing sight of the heart that still beat in my chest, the heart that belonged somewhere else.

I gritted my teeth and pulled my iPod back up to my face to gaze at the impossibly agitating symbol that lurched on it. This time however, it was gone. I gasped in a mix of horror and bewilderment as the screen flickered in a parade of ambers and golds. It flashed and popped for a full minute until the colors refined into a perfect Assassin seal, just like the one in my dream.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a full second until I finally found the courage to open them again. As I did, the seal fizzled into a series of numbers that could have very well been morse code for all the sense it made to me.

"2.0, 0.3, 2, 3, 000, 2.02, 0," I read aloud, my voice trembling.

Then as soon as it had appeared, the scene crumbled back into the familiar strange symbol that took its dreaded residence upon my screen. I frowned at the tiny emblem, trying to process what had just happened.

_2.0, 0.3, 2, 3, 000, 2.02, 0…_

I remembered them perfectly, like they had been instantaneously imprinted in my brain. And then there was the seal…It was almost like a message. But then, why would it be so encrypted? If someone really wanted to tell me something, the message would have been very clear, right? Besides, why would they tell me via my ipod? It was evil as far as I was concerned, like an untouchable leech. I still couldn't accept that it was following me. I still couldn't accept a lot of things, it seemed.

My exhaustion started to get the better of me as I dropped the cursed device back into my pocket, assuring myself that those numbers meant absolutely nothing…But then, what if they were the key to my escape?

Suddenly, the crisp prick of a needle found its way to my arm. I jumped and stared daggers into my skin, my heart beating furiously. I had felt it go in, I was sure of it…But there was nothing, only the soft paleness of my inner arm.

It was true, then. I really _was_ going insane.


	21. XXI: Torn

**Note ~ **Alrighty! Been a while, huh? I was so pleasantly surprised with the reviews for last chapter! You people really know how to brighten a day! ^.^ Well, I want you to know that I really appreciate it! It is such an honor for me that so many different folks are reading my little doogie here. Thank you with all my heart. :D

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I stared after the stable master as he crept towards the window to investigate. We had been awakened by the sound of horses skidding to a halt somewhere outside.

"What do you see?" the man's wife whispered from their bed.

The stable master squinted in the young grey of dawn's light. I was huddled in my own bed, unable to see out of the window, but I could see the man's face. At first, it betrayed a look of utter confusion. Then, it twisted into an expression of pure hatred, of disgust, and of fear.

"What is it? What do you see?" his wife repeated.

The scrawny man pulled himself away from the small window, which was framed in a sickly colored wood. "Templars," he whispered, his voice drenched with worry.

"What?" I almost shouted, an instant wave of anxiety coursing through me. "Altair and Faruq are still in the stable! What if they're seen?"

The man swallowed harshly and I watched as sweat began to skim along his brow. "We know what your friends are," he said quietly. "That woman has been preaching about their kind liberating our village since the day she arrived."

"So you're just going to let them get captured?" I whispered, exasperated. "They're wounded! They can't fight!"

"They could kill us if we interfere. We're just going to sit tight until they get what they want and leave."

"But we _paid_ you!" I snarled.

"Not for protection from Templars, you didn't."

I glared at him menacingly, on the verge of making a break for the door, when a soulless voice sliced through the air.

"Search every home!" it shouted. "Kill anyone who tries to escape!"

I froze, my breath catching in my lungs. There was no question about who they were looking for. Apparently, our escape from Damascus was not as clean as I had originally thought. Before I knew what was happening, I was being shoved from the bed and shepherded underneath it by tough plump hands. I glanced frantically towards the intruder, right into the golden irises of the stable master's wife.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, trying with little success to break free of her force.

"You were traveling with them," she rasped. "They must be looking for you, too."

With this, she shoved me completely underneath the small bed and draped a quilt over the side, leaving me alone in a claustrophobic darkness. I could hear her voice from the other side of the fabric barrier.

"Be still, _bintun_. Don't try to move."

"What about you?" I asked.

"My husband and I are not Assassins. We will be spared."

My heart fluttered dramatically and my breathing came to a cold halt. Sweat began to pour down my skin as the straw sticking through the bed frame poked at me relentlessly. Dimly, I heard the woman get up and walk away from me. Then, there was the sound of heavy boots pounding on the sand outside as Templars dispersed through the village. Eventually, all sound dissipated beneath the deafening circus of my heartbeat.

All I could think about was Altair and Faruq. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined them safely hiding behind a rock or escaping from the village on horses. They had to be safe. I couldn't bear the thought of them standing up to a Templar battalion wounded.

Suddenly, my hearing returned with a sharp crack as the door of the house flew open and smashed against the wall. Lead feet clunked along the floor and paced around the small home. I lay perfectly still and prayed as I heard the Templar interrogate the stable master.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair and Faruq held their breath as they pressed themselves into the back of the stable behind the horses. The heavy shadows of dawn lent their aid as the two Assassins struggled to stay out of sight.

"What can we do, Brother?" Faruq whispered.

At first, Altair was silent as he listened for approaching Templars. "Nothing," he replied almost inaudibly.

Altair's blood raced as he saw one of the knights stalk into the stable master's home. He hoped to everything holy that Sarah was safe. It wasn't exactly an appealing thought to have to track her down again, especially with his shoulder and calf still unrecovered. It was Faruq who had heard the Templars coming, but both men knew that they had no chance of escaping in the cursed morning light. Templars were good at spotting runaways.

"You think they are from Damascus?" Faruq asked after a few strenuous minutes.

"Yes."

"That was quick, then."

"It was a foolish decision to stay the night…"

"Well, it was _your_ foolish decision, Brother."

"I am aware."

"Should w-"

Altair held up a hand as a burly-looking Templar stomped towards the stable. His armor clinked with an unbearable tension as he stalked closer, unnerving all of the slumberous steeds. They brayed at the approaching abomination and shifted their hooves in the sand.

"Shut up!" the man hissed, leaning towards the animals with the full menace of his being.

Altair watched him move closer and closer to the suffocating Assassins. With every step, he paused to crane his neck and observe each crevice of the shambled stable. His ears, though concealed by his helmet, were perked to listen for the slightest noise. In this attempt, the horses were a great hindrance as they neighed and stomped at his presence.

Faruq tried to press himself further into the waning shadows when a rebellious wall board moaned and cracked. The ever observant Templar twitched at the noise and flung his gaze in its direction. Altair fell still as death under the knight's squinting gaze. He could hear Faruq's breath hitch in his throat as the shadows seemed to abandon the two injured men.

The Templar need not ask who the strange villagers were and why they were hiding in the stable. He had been told what to look for and they fit the bill perfectly. He had found the Assassins.

Time seemed to melt as Altair's mind reeled with options, which he found to be few and far between. They could try to silence the Templar as quietly as possible. But where would they go from there? As far as he knew, Sarah was still in the stable master's house. They could just abandon her and come back later, but that risked her being kidnapped again anyway. Besides, a dead knight would be noticed. Unless…

Without any further delay, Altair lunged at the smirking Templar before he could announce his discovery. He rammed his forearm into the heavy man's chest, ignoring the pain that flared up in his shoulder. The knight heaved for breath as Altair wrapped his right arm around his back and pulled him close, his left wrist busy with the silent blade it held. In one swift breadth of time, the thin metal had found its home in the Templar's carotid artery. He managed to choke out one last gurgled breath before his life withered into the approaching dawn.

Altair followed the man to the ground to prevent any unnecessary noise. He looked over his shoulder at a barely breathing Faruq. He could tell that Faruq had already anticipated the knight's death, but he did not know what Altair was planning to do with the body. Such ignorance seemed to frighten him as his muscles locked in a nervous pose.

"It's alright, Faruq," Altair assured. "I have a plan."

Faruq stared at his Brother blankly. "Then let's have it."

Altair nodded and set to work unbuckling the Templar's armor beneath him. "You are about this man's build, I believe."

"What? Oh no. _That's_ your plan? But there's only one set of armor."

"I know and I want you to wear it."

"But Al-"

"Come here and help me with this. We don't have much time."

Faruq stared down at his Brother anxiously for a minute before he sighed and knelt to assist him. "They will not spare you."

"They will long enough to interrogate me. I can hold my own, Faruq. Don't worry about me."

"I won't abandon you, Brother."

"Yes you will," Altair snarled. He sent a sovereign glare straight into Faruq's soul. "Take _Shabah_ and get back to Masyaf as soon as possible."

Faruq fidgeted uncomfortably. "How will I break from the group?"

"Leave that to me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"And you are sure you have not seen any nobles of Damascus dress?"

"Yes, we are sure. This village rarely attracts men of such social standing."

"You _dare_ to mock our orders?"

"No, no! I intended for no such thing!"

"Mhmm. I shall spare you _this_ time, peasant."

I opened and closed my mouth in a desperate attempt to suck in air little bits at a time. My lungs were beginning to sting and my chest felt like there were bricks being pressed against it. I wasn't going to last much longer. But the stable master and his wife were enduring much more than I. The Templar had been flinging suspicious questions at them like fireworks and every response they gave was deemed utterly inadequate.

My ears buckled with the sound of the knight's boots clashing against the ground again. He was searching the home. I tried to scoot closer to the wall, but it was nearly impossible with the hay above me threatening to crackle and split.

"You do not mind if I have a look around." It was not a question.

"Not at all," I heard the stable master say. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice that the Templar no doubt picked up on. They were an attentive bunch.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Faruq buckled the final piece of the Templar's heavy jointed armor on his forearm. He jumped a little to test its fit and suppressed a smile when it clinked perfectly in place.

"Right. You know what to do," Altair said in his matter-of-fact way.

Faruq stared at his injured Brother through the rusting slit in his helmet. He felt so much bigger than him now. And yet, he knew who was the braver man. Tired, wounded, and alone, Altair would have to face the Templars. Knowing this, he still managed to stand upright beside his disguised Brother.

"Safety and peace be upon you Altair," Faruq whispered.

Altair lay his hand on his Brother's shoulder. "On you as well."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I heard the small man's wife gasp slightly as the Templar moved closer to the bed I was smushed under. If I never knew the meaning of the word 'frozen', I did now. Every last one of my muscles came to a screeching halt as the knight's knee met the floor. A lustrous gauntlet reached beneath the quilt that concealed the underside of the small bed and armored fingers curled to pull it away. I squeezed my eyes shut and drowned in my ripping heartbeat.

"What is this?" the bellowing voice outside rang again.

The Templar that knelt barely a foot from me immediately retracted his hand. I heard his armor scratch against the ground as he lifted himself back into a standing position. He marched from the house and joined a commotion that was growing outside.

I did not dare to speak, for fear of my ears betraying me and the Templar's presence still lingering in the air. Nevertheless, my heart had found a tender rhythm again and the sweat that smeared across my neck lost its metallic weight.

"What is going on, now?" I heard the stable master's wife ask.

"I can't tell," the small man answered. "Looks like they have one of the Assassins, though."

And just like that, my frantic state churned back up in my stomach. They had _one_ of the Assassins. But which one? And why was there only one? Had the other escaped? I clinched my jaw with the full force of my frustration. I had to stay put. I could not help either of the two men even if I tried. But a part of me protested against such inaction. How could I just _abandon_ them? How could I lie safely underneath a bed while they are taken by the Templars?

"Do not move, _bintun_," someone whispered. "They are not done with us yet."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Faruq knew exactly who he was after. The Templar of interest stood in the center of the town and glared over his subordinates as they ransacked homes and interrogated villagers. He was the leader of this troupe of traveling terrors.

The now-armored Assassin held Altair by the arm and was practically dragging him along the sand.

"What is this?" the leading knight spat when he caught sight of the approaching duo.

Apparently, he was the man who had been promoted following the death of Husam. This new commander looked twice as brutal as his predecessor. Dark circles dug through his eyes and followed long trails of missing or shredded flesh along the grooves of his face. His nose and mouth were equally protrusive as they hung heavily to his jaw. And yet, he possessed an unfamiliar air of rationale. He seemed much more capable of considering consequences than Husam.

"I have found one of the Assassins," Faruq announced, securing his grip on Altair. "He says the other two fled the village during the night, _sayedy_."

"Ah, and you have decided to come quietly then, _Hashishin_?" The commander eyed Altair with a weighty smirk on his lips.

Altair said nothing. He avoided eye contact and chose instead to stare at the sand beneath him, counting his heartbeats.

"But what is this?" the Templar mocked. "An _Assassin_ without words? I did not think it possible! After all, that is your strongest weapon, is it not?"

"What use would you have for my words, _Templar_?" Altair asked levelly. His calm seemed to distress the knight.

He leaned in close to the Assassin and took his chin in his hand, forcing Altair to look him in the eyes. "You are alone, my friend. No one is coming to save you. It would be unwise to deny me what I want."

"No Assassin stands alone," Altair lied. "My Brothers are everywhere."

"Hah! As I hear it, your friends have already departed! But do not worry, we will find them soon."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Simple. You will tell us where they went and we will not have to hurt you."

"What makes you so sure that I will break?" Altair whispered darkly.

"Everyone has a breaking point, Assassin. There is only the matter of _finding_ it."

Altair had heard enough. He got what he needed to know. Sarah was still hidden, which left him plenty of room to execute his plan. He nudged Faruq in the hip as the Templar released his jaw and began to carry on into a threatening rant, envisioning Altair's torture. Faruq nodded ever so slightly and waited for the knight to turn his back before toppling himself into the sand and crying out in pain. The commander whirled back around and gasped loudly as his mind registered what had happened.

"Get him! Get the Assassin!" Altair heard from behind him as he sprinted away from the village.

The wind whipped past his ears as he ran to the best of his ability. His left calf was screaming as his wound reopened and smeared against the leather of his boot, but he had to keep moving. He needed to get the Templars away from Sarah and Faruq. It did not matter what happened to him now, only that _they_ get out of the village alive.

Faruq stared after his fleeing Brother and cringed. The Templars were going to catch him. And when they did…Faruq shook his head. He had to focus of finding Sarah, whom he assumed to be in the stable master's house. He feigned disorientation until most of the Templars had abandoned the immediate area and joined their leader in his pursuit.

Confident that no one would see him, he scrambled to his feet and headed for the small home beside the stable.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"He's running away!" I heard the stable master rasp. "What is he thinking? They'll kill him!"

My eyes snapped open, the man's words playing over and over again in my head. Neither Faruq nor Altair were in good enough shape to run, much less _outrun_. Whichever one it was would never survive!

Suddenly, the familiar sound of plated boots barged into the house. And once again, I stiffened, becoming one with the shadow that cradled me. Did they know I was here? I held my breath and waited, waited to be pulled from underneath the bed and thrown back to a Templar master.

I would experience no such trauma.

"_Shabah_!" I heard someone call.

That name. It was like honey, sweet sweet honey on my wounded ears. And I _knew_ that voice.

"F-Faruq?" I choked, spitting hay from my mouth.

"You are the other Assassin?" I heard the scrawny man ask. If he was surprised, he certainly wasn't showing it. "She is under the bed."

Heavy boots rushed over to the bedside and lifted the quilt, flooding me in a pool of newborn light. I strained to see the figure before me, to confirm that he was really there. He was just as I remembered him. The only difference was his armor.

"Faruq!" I wheezed. "What's going on? Why are you wearing-"

"No time, _Shabah_! We need to get out of here, now!"

I winced when he reached for my arm and started to drag me out from underneath the bed. His gauntlet was cold and sharp, more like a sword than armor. When I was completely emerged, Faruq wasted no time in pulling me out of the house and into the stable.

"Wait, Faruq!" I tried to yell. "What's going on?"

"Later!" he growled.

He let go of my arm to unhitch a steed and mount it hastily. I stared after him blankly. I had never seen Faruq so…intense. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Faruq," I stammered. "Where's Altair?"

He didn't have to tell me, really. I already knew what the other Assassin was up to, and I already knew why we had very little time to spare. But I just couldn't get myself to function. All I could do was stand there and stare at Faruq, my mind racing.

"Come on!" Faruq shouted, his eyes fiery.

My body numbed as I heaved myself over the back of the horse and scrambled desperately for a foothold. Faruq did not wait for me to get situated. He immediately kicked the horse in gear and soon we were galloping back up the cliff towards Masyaf. I clung dangerously to his torso as he flew through the morning sand. There was no time to look back, no time to think. But worst of all, there was no Altair.

I glanced back at the shrinking village and spotted the horde of Templars who had been chasing him. They had not noticed Faruq and me. No, they were much more concerned with their new chew toy, which had crumpled to the ground in its exhaustion. The slimy knights circled around his body like vultures and a strangled cry of pain echoed through the cliffs.

"Faruq!" I sobbed. "We can't just abandon him!"

Faruq was silent.

"Please!" I continued to beg. "Turn around! They're going to kill him!" My voice cracked pathetically and I buried my face in Faruq's ever silent form. "Please!"

"Safety and peace, Altair," he muttered quietly.


	22. XXII: Plans, Plans, Plans

**Note ~ **Kind of a shorty. This chappie's full of important hints and amazing plot milestones! Not really...But it is pretty important. I'm not sure how frequent updates will be here lately, as my recent progress has shown. The school year's almost up and I gotta focus on tying up loose assignments and all that jazz. Bleh...Thanks again for reading! And thanks for the reviews! :D

Edit: Okie dokie, so yeah I reread this and realized that it _is_ pretty confusing. But please place your trust in me to make everything happy-dandy-makes-sense-smiles as more chapters come along! :) This plot is pretty complicated and I'm trying to eeeaase everything in...Fail much? Probably. But I promise I'm trying super hard. Bear with me?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"That's enough!"

The posse of Templars surrounding Altair slowed their abuse of his frame as the commander held up an armored hand.

"Have we found it yet, _Assassin_?" he sneered. "Your _breaking_ point?"

Altair spurted blood from his mouth and crumpled in pain on the ground, fifteen knights looming over him. But his throat remained still; silent despite his screaming wounds.

"You thought you could run from us?" the commander pressed on. "You, a pathetic tool of your Creed? Tell us where your friends went and I _promise_ to make it stop."

"Why would you 'aste your time…on a few measly A-Assassins?" Altair choked out, defiance flaring in his eyes.

One of the Templars delivered a brutal kick to his ribs in response. Altair clamped his jaw down as the familiar pang of fire attacked his muscles.

"Templars!" a female voice called.

All of the knights followed to voice to the flat lips of the old Assassin who had occupied the village well. She glared at the troupe of men and smiled maliciously.

"What is it you want, _hag_?" the commander growled.

"I am here to help," she protested, holding up her hands.

Altair squinted warily in an attempt to make out her figure in the blinding sunlight of dawn. But he already knew who it was. He knew her voice. What puzzled him was how she planned on _helping_ the Templars. He gritted his teeth hotly as he waited for her to continue.

"That man," she smiled, pointing her only arm at Altair. "That man knows much more than he's letting on."

The commander glanced back at Altair and frowned. "Does he, now? And who are you?"

"I used to live with the Assassins. They exiled me for collaborating with Templars."

"Hmm…How interesting. You may continue."

The woman nodded wickedly. "That Assassin you have there knows many things. However, he cannot tell you where his friends went. That he does not know."

Altair eyed her suspiciously. He couldn't tell if she was on the Templars' side or his.

"So what good is he to me, then?" the commander questioned.

"Ah, but you have struck it rich, my friend. That particular man was Al Mualim's star pupil. He knows the secrets of the Templar treasure. He knows where it is hidden. He knows all the Assassin stronghold inside and out. He can tell you when and how to strike. He can tell you who guards the treasure with his life, and he can tell you the significance of the girl who traveled in his company."

"The girl? She is significant? How?"

"I cannot say," the woman frowned. "It is locked away in that skull of _his_, not mine."

The commander thought for a moment. "Very well." He turned to his men. "Tie him up, and take this hag as well."

Altair blinked heavily as all sound died save the blood rushing through his ears. It was over. It was all over. Because of her Sarah would never make it out alive.

Or maybe…Maybe it was all part of the plan.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"How could we not see this before?"_

_ "We had no reason to look for it. He was doing everything perfectly. His thoughts were in perfect sync with the program. He did his research."_

_ "But to have so much discipline! It seems inhuman!"_

_ "Until he broke, it did."_

_ "Well it's not like we can close down all of our systems. We'd lose her if we tried."_

_ "Whoever's doing this does not have the technology we do. He has to be degenerating at a much quicker pace than Sarah."_

_ "But by the time he goes critical it could be too late."_

_ "What do you think they even want?"_

_ "Information, probably. They could be some silly reporters trying to get a good story."_

_ "No way. These guys are pros. What if…"_

_ "What? What if what?"_

_ "…Nothing. It's a stupid idea. How do you think we can stop it?"_

_ "I don't know yet. I'm going to set her monitors to the absolute minimum. The implant will keep her stable while we try to tap into his frequencies. We might be able to transfer a virus."_

_ "And do what? Kill him? That's insane!"_

_ "Is it? I think we've already crossed your precious border or morality. Besides, when this is all over, no one will care about our methods."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Faruq…" I begged for the umpteenth time. My voice had deteriorated to little more than a quiet rasp.

"He _told_ me to abandon him, _Shabah_. It was the only way."

"There's always another way!" I breathed, slamming my fist into his pauldron.

"Not always..." Faruq murmured.

I immediately retracted at the tone of his voice. He was thinking about Laleh. How could I be so stupid? If there had been another way to save her…Maybe he was right. What if there isn't always another way? What is fate twists our paths in strange directions for a reason? Reasons that we cannot comprehend but must follow in blind faith.

Faith is what makes Assassins breathe. It makes them move. It is their blood and their blade, their savior and their destroyer. And it is faith that they cling to when there seems to be no other way. That is why Faruq was able to let go of Laleh. He had _faith_ that she had died for a reason. He had _faith_ that I had been spared for a reason…

And here I was throwing his faith to the wind, telling him that Laleh's death could have been avoided. It could have. I didn't have to live, and yet Faruq believed that I did. He trusted that my presence was significant; that his love had sacrificed herself for something greater.

"I'm sorry, Faruq," I whispered.

"He told me to trust him, _Shabah_. So that's what I'm going to do."

"So…What do we do now?"

"We train."

"What?" I choked.

"The Templars have taken Altair."

"What makes you so sure they didn't just kill him?"

"He's smart, _Shabah_. He'll make them think they need him for a while."

"So where did they take him, then?"

"Acre, most likely. I am not sure, though. We will have to gather some information."

I breathed in and out with deliberate sluggardness as I considered Faruq's implications. Was he thinking of a rescue mission?

"So why exactly to we need to train?"

"So that you and I can go back for him. That's why."

I smiled inwardly and dipped my head in the shadow of his back. "But you heard what he said. All I care about is getting back to where I belong. What makes you think I'd want to come with you? And why is it just us?"

"A large operation would attract too much attention. And please, Shabah. It is quite obvious that you need Altair to get to wherever it is you need to be."

"Well I-"

"But I have a suspicion that he needs you as well…"

"Huh?"

"Altair has never been one to verbalize his thoughts, but he has been acting rather…distracted, has he not?"

I thought back to the village when he had left to go speak with the strange woman. "Yeah, I guess he has…"

"He did not decide to help you out of good will alone, little one."

_You have no idea. _

"Altair has his own agenda."

An _agenda_? That one had never occurred to me. I leaned back on the saddle and considered it. Everything he had done for me seemed to originate from a sense of responsibility towards his time, nothing more. I was under the impression that he just wanted to keep my technology away from the Templars and get me home. But what if that's just what he _wanted_ me to think? What if there was more to it than that?

"Faruq…I never-"

"It matters little now," he broke in. "We need to focus on getting to Masyaf to train and recover. It's high time you learned how to wield a blade."

There was a long pause, leaving only the sound of hooves and swaying palm leaves in our company. The breeze brought sand to our eyes and the sun left its mark on our skin, what little of it was exposed. I was growing sick of the desert and its 'charms'.

"Do you think he's going to last long enough?" I finally asked.

"Have a little faith, _Shabah_."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"So she got it? Are you absolutely sure?"_

_"Yes, but she doesn't know what to make of it right now."_

_"She will eventually…I just hope she does before our time runs out. How's Altair?"_

_"Coping. I bet they weren't counting on his strength. If they'd been smart, they would have chosen someone else as a template."_

_"Let's just be grateful that they weren't. He's the only one out of all of us who might be able to pull this off."_

_"And what of Sarah?"_

_"We're still refining the escape route. He should be able to slip in no problem, just as long as we always remain one step ahead."_

_"How fast can we disconnect for the transport?"_

_"Fast enough. Don't worry. We'll get her."_


	23. XXIII: You

**Note ~** SCHOOL'S OUT! *cue dance party* Anyway, that means updates will be much less scarce. A little forewarning, the bulk of this chapter is a flashback, NOT something that is currently going on. I apologize for its measly length, but it fulfills its purpose. If I made it any longer, I would risk giving away all my precious secrets! :O I want to thank you guys again for all the support and reviews! And a special thanks goes to the 'Goddess of Awesomeness' for pulling me out of a hole. You know who you are.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair wandered down the ominous stretch of hallway that loomed before him. It was the corridor to what would become the greatest challenge of his life; a challenge of self-control. He ran a hand through his hair nervously and worked to steady his breathing. But he could not be anxious. No, he had to stay calm.

He had been practicing for almost a year. His thoughts were almost perfectly aligned. His connection to the world was almost completely cut, save the critical bond to it that had to be maintained.

How long would it take? How dangerous? He had asked these questions dozens of times, all with the same answer: 'We don't know'. But it had to be him, not because of his choice, but due to that of others; traitors. Traitors to everything the Assassins had ever held to be their law, their Creed. And now it was up to Altair to repair the damaged citadel.

He hated it, hated being used to clean up someone else's mess. But he had been told that it would be worth it, that the girl was more important that they realized. What his heart told him mattered little now. He had to do it. He had to protect the Creed. He had to remove himself. Her life was in his hands, as well as that of the Brotherhood.

It was all up to Altair.

He cleared his mind as he reached the halfway point of the hallway and heard the sickening clank of a door sealing behind him. There was no turning back. He had to be who he they needed him to be. He had to disregard his previous life. He had to make the sacrifice.

The door at the end of the hall hummed at his approach, beckoning him forth, singing of his task. As he neared its curved frame, a fluorescent beam sprang from its base and crawled along its edges, calling the portal to life. There was a loud 'whoosh' noise as it unlocked and crept open to reveal the room.

Bathed in the pale light of computer screens, the small chamber pulled on Altair with intense gravity, centered around the unrefined machine sitting in its belly. He slowed his pace a little in amazement, having never actually seen the fabled creation before. It smiled up at him with pulsing blue lights and glistening metal, almost like something that would be better suited for outer space. But he could not risk allowing the abomination to distract him any further. His thoughts had to be sterile, pressed in the deepest depths of his subconscious. He had to bury himself, allowing the desert to take over.

He could no longer be the Altair he knew. He had to be the Altair _they_ knew, the Altair _she_ knew, else he would never succeed in his mission. The memories, of pain, of love, of joy, were nothing to him now. He was not even allowed to acknowledge the existence of anyone outside of the circle of crucial personnel who would accompany him on his journey. He was alone in his false thoughts, so terribly abandoned by his own free will.

"Are you ready?" a voice called when as he stepped into full light of the room.

Altair stared at the face of the woman who had spoken. Who was she? He had known at some point, but he had been forced to dismiss it. All he knew was that she was part of the team, part of the project. Even that small knowledge he would need to banish.

"How long will I have?" he asked absently.

"We don't know."

~.~.~.~.~

_ "Damn it! This is bad. This is really, really bad."_

_ "Don't worry."_

_ "Don't worry? They're separated!"_

_ "They've been separated before."_

_ "Only last time his identity wasn't left out in the open! They know!"_

_ "I realize this. Initiate fire walls. I want nothing infiltrating his subconscious."_

_ "Will it be enough?"_

_ "For a while. His brain won't be stable for much longer."  
_


	24. XXIV: Viral Truths

**Note ~ **So much for 'more frequent updates!', huh? Turns out this summer's not as lightweight as it should be. But that won't stop me from writing! :P I don't know how limited your guys' patience is, though. This chapter's full of 'what the crap?' moments. Anywho, a BIIIIGGGGG thank you goes out to all of you who have been here since...well, to all of you who have been here. :)

_SuddenSummerStorm ~ _I'm glad you think it came out okay! It is really reassuring to hear that my goofy sci-fi one-eighties aren't totally disasterific. ;P Seriously though, I saved the word spilling for this chapter.

_hollownature ~ _Woohoo! New reader! Thank you for saying so! :D Your review is much appreciated!

_Barbed Wire ~ _Well, this is for when you catch up, then. Thankies for the kind review! I know how hard it is for you to resist flaming, being such a jerk and all. ;P_  
_-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"We've dropped control of minor systems. The artificials are acting on their backup programs."_

_"What if they try to manipulate them?"_

_"They won't. They're probably too busy with fire walls and brain deterioration."_

_"Altair might make an attempt."_

_"Well, he won't last long against an army of Templars wounded. I don't think we have anything to worry about."_

_"But now that they're out in the open, they might just heal his wounds and try to alter the reality to their benefit."_

_"They can't. They don't have that kind of control. They may attempt to heal him, but I doubt they have the reserves for that kind of hacking."_

_"Hmm. How is the virus coming?"_

_"As I said, they're busy with fire walls. I'm not going to get anything through for a while. But they're living on borrowed time. We've got the upper hand here."_

_"Do we? I'm beginning to wonder. I mean, they got away with this much…"_

_"Are you suggesting they've got something up their sleeves?"_

_"Look, all I'm saying is we should be careful. That's all."_

_"Aren't we always?"_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair fumbled uselessly with the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles. His head throbbed as it recovered from the blunt force trauma of the Templar leader's hilt. He had just awoken from a perilous unconsciousness only to find himself strapped to the back of a stilled horse. He snuck a glance at his surroundings and spied nearly fifty other mounted steeds shifting in the grass at their hooves. Wait. Grass?

Altair craned his neck to look over the knights and spied a sovereign city wall glaring back at him. He recognized its cold, grey stonework and the leering torches at its gate. This was Acre. He must have been asleep longer than he had thought to have gone this far.

He observed the Templars around him and squinted suspiciously. They were fidgeting with their armor or brushing insects from their horses' manes as they watched something that was out of Altair's line of sight. He could feel a breathing knight sharing the saddle with him, but found it impossible to look towards his carrier.

"They're waiting for their commander," a withered voice whispered from somewhere behind him.

"Huh? Who's there?"

"You know very well who I am, Altair."

It was true. Altair did know that voice. He knew a lot of things, things that he had been forced to leave unacknowledged for too long. And now they were returning. The dam in his mind crumbled as thoughts long dormant crashed through to his consciousness. He struggled to push them back, but with halfhearted efforts. He had been wanting this to happen ever since he first laid eyes on _Shabah_. He had wanted to tell her so much.

_Shabah_. It seemed silly to think of her under that title, now. He knew her real name very well. He knew more about her than she could ever know about him. And it almost felt unfair. He had constantly told her that he did not wish to know anything about her. He had been forced to live in a totally different subconscious, one that she thought she knew very well.

As everything came flooding to him and visions of his life flashed before his eyes, he almost forgot where he was. But he could not let everything through, else his most important secrets would be released. Some things had to stay dark, so the dam would remain as long as he was in this damned world. And he hated it. He just wanted to be himself again, the Altair _he_ knew.

"You are not real, though," Altair whispered to the voice behind him. It was the woman from the village.

"Ah, but neither are you," she countered. "How are you feeling?"

"I-I can feel myself breaking down."

Altair was stricken by the honesty in his words. As he allowed himself some breadth of connection to his conscious state, he began to feel a disconcerting weightlessness about it.

"Yes. You only have a few more days, maybe less."

"But the time frames are different. A few days there is over a month here."

"Indeed. Are you very angry with me?"

"For what?"

"For telling the Templars about the girl. I was only trying to help."

She had told the commander that _Shabah_ was valuable, but it was all in an effort to keep Altair alive. How could he resent her for saving his life? But of course, she had been coded to take every necessary action in such a situation. With very minimal regard for the consequences that might arise, he might add. Apparently, there was more planning underway than Altair had originally been aware of.

"I know that now," he murmured distractedly. "Do you think they will go after her?"

"They will not. Their programs are on backup."

"Easily manipulated…"

"Correct. You may be very far away now, but you will occupy the coordinates that you need to very soon."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I stared out into the bleary cliffs as sleep threatened to claim me. The scenery that had once been so bright and full was dead to me now. Even the powerful desert sun seemed to lose it incredible grip on the world. Everything had happened so fast, it almost felt like I was dreaming. And a dream it should have been. All of it.

My arms slackened their hold around Faruq's waist as I felt the familiar helplessness of guilt stab at my joints. But that was all there was. My mind had been stretched too thin to feel anything but the harsh drought that overtook it. There were no more tears left in the once limitless rivers that cascaded down my heart. And now, unmasked by my noisy emotions, the realness of the situation lay before me like a map. It was smudged and torn, with some regions and land masses missing completely. But through all of the wear was my unbridled path, glowing dully in the faded colors of its illustration.

The cliffside that moved beneath me blackened into the depths of my subconscious and I saw everything that resided there. There was Laleh smiling at me through crooked teeth, Faruq bleeding out atop a splintered table, Zafar laughing away a deepening wound, and Altair staring at me through muddy, shrouded irises. But none of them were real to me. None of them held the aching tangibility of the life that I had once known so well.

I watched their sun-worn faces fade as they were replaced by those of my family. And they were there, looking at me as though we had seen each other only yesterday. Memories crashed into me like an relentless stream of arrows from bows that had centuries stood waiting. Memories that I had pushed back in an effort to maintain my sanity. But Altair had stopped it, told me to hold on to them.

Altair had preserved me.

Before I could focus on them, his dark eyes appeared in my mind, situated perfectly beside my family. But they were different. They lacked the unnerving muddiness that usually possessed them. I could see straight through their desperate gaze that was so unlike his typical guarded expression. Who was this Altair? Why did he find solace in the preciousness of my tangible life?

Suddenly, the reality of Altair's distance struck me like a jagged stone. He was my only real connection to the world beyond this dream. It was almost as if he did not belong here either. I had reflected once before on how stunningly human he was, how estranged his behavior was from that of the Altair I knew so well. He acted nothing like a programed complex of vertices, but as a thinking, breathing man.

None of it made any sense. The world I was in, the sporadic decisions of everyone around me. It all seemed to revolve around my preservation. Zafar had found me on the side of the road, Laleh had given her life for me, the stable master had kept me hidden while Altair was kidnapped, all in some vast effort for me to remain. Faruq's chest bled, Altair's limbs ached, Husam and Laleh were still as the Earth that kept them, and I stood unscathed amidst the rubble.

But why? For what great cause was I spared?

And just as these thoughts were born, I was struck with a vivid recollection of a certain series of numbers:

_ 2.0, 0.3, 2, 3, 000, 2.02, 0._

I blinked, banishing my subconscious back to its docile state. But the numbers remained. They twisted through my brain over and over again, whispering their sequence with a subtle objective. Why would they not leave me be? It was as though I had no control over the brand they had left behind.

Faruq had been silent for the entire distance we'd traveled, save the occasional awkward clank of the armor that he still adorned. I stared into the sinking sun's glow and thought back on the vow he had made as we were fleeing the Templar-infested village; as we were leaving Altair. He had told me that we would come back for him, that we would rescue him all by ourselves because a large group would attract too much attention, that he and I would find Altair and bring him home before the Templars had a chance to hurt him anymore.

But as I thought on it now, I began to see the childishness of such a vow. It was like two mice running through a hall of traps only to find them doubled when they turned to leave.

"Faruq," I whispered, staring hopelessly into the setting sun. "You didn't mean any of it, did you?"

I felt his chest heave with a labored breath. He knew exactly what I was referring to, and he did not need to answer. But Altair couldn't just die like that, could he? It couldn't end with just one sweep of Templars. He would find a way to escape, or he would just resynchronize somewhere else…

Wouldn't he?

No, he wouldn't. How could he possibly resynchronize in a world that had no such option? How could he be the Altair I knew in a world that was not his own? And just like that, it started to make some coherent sense. This place was not his world, either. There were no view points, no accosted citizens, no heads up display. I could not quite place my judgment, but I was sure that Altair _was_ different. Why else would he stay lodged in my mind when everything else faded to dust? Why else would he react so…_knowingly_ to everything I had told him about my life? Why else would he risk everything to ensure my safety?

And why was I giving this world so much thought? Was I officially convinced that I was living in a temporary reality? Or was I simply going along with the dream, praying constantly that it would end? But there was so much proof, so many truths that prayed upon my rationalizations. Everyone spoke English, I still had my ipod, which sported a new sinister look, and my dreams…They were so unnatural, more like they were planted than fabricated. But what was it that the Assassins' Creed said?

_ 'Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.'_

I shivered, finding myself hyperaware of all of the experiences that could have been simply dust in the wind.

One thing that I was certain of now, if nothing else, was my identity. I would hold on to my memories, no matter what newborn truths this world threw at me. Because just as Altair said, it was my choice to lose them or not. And even if I never saw him again, I would leave this reality knowing that he had held my sanity the entire way.

It was he who I had met first in this world. He had shaken me to sense, then promised me his blade. When I was taken by Templars, it was he who had helped me escape. When I had nothing else to hold onto, Altair was the face behind my dreams. And when there was no other way, he was the one who made the sacrifice.

Yes, he definitely was different. He was not simply a character in a scheme of organized events. He had a consciousness, as clear and cluttered as my own. When everyone else seemed to be fulfilling a role in the quest for my preservation, Altair was making the decisions that shaped it. And I would leave this place with him at the forefront of my thoughts, dancing delicately beside my memories.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"Ah, but they underestimate our intelligence! I am insulted."_

_"It's a good thing, actually. They think they have the upper hand, and we are going to let them continue on in their little fantasy. This way, we have plenty of room to wiggle."_

_"But our wiggly jello act won't last long under their scope if we do this."_

_"That is a risk I am willing to take. We simply do not have the time to sit around and wait for a rescue operation. Malik should be able to pick up the pieces of Sarah's wandering mind for the time being."_

_"Right under their noses. I would love to see the looks on their faces when they find out that their entire system is crumbling."_

_"Just focus on that transport. It will take a considerable toll on his physical state, which will only leave us with…"_

_"Approximately two hundred minutes until deactivation. But we have to get him out before then. According to our tracking streams, they've finally been found by Alpha. It's could literally only be a matter of minutes before the entire operation is commandeered and Sarah is lost to us forever."_

_"That is not going to happen. I've already dispatched the team. Their progress is being monitored underground as we speak."_

_"The virus is still dormant. I'll switch it to standby when we get the back up power circulated."_

_"It was never Sarah's fault…She should not have to suffer for someone else's treachery."_

_"Randomly selected…"_

_"Randomly destroyed, you mean. And now, she's more valuable than she's ever dreamed."_

_"But do you remember her arms? Do you think it means something?"_

_"Nonsense. That is a superstition long buried."_

_"Well, Altair seemed to think it was pretty important."_

_"He would, in his mental state. It probably just reminded him of everything he had been forced to forget, and he had to improvise thought patterns."_

_"It's not right, for either of them. She should be with her family and he should be with us. Only us, not spread across the world like some intercontinental dartboard."_

_"The world has a funny way of setting us on paths we would never imagine being a part of. And somehow, it can always turn out to be something that pushes us in the right direction."_

_"Are you saying all of this mess is a good thing? All of the time and needless effort that we've exhausted on it was part of some greater good? I find that difficult to see at the moment…"_

_"As do I, but our faith has always preserved us, has it not? Why should we abandon it now?"_

_"Because faith has a tendency to abandon us."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Altair watched avidly as the Templar commander stalked into his sight, spitting out a amalgamation of sentences that struck the Assassin like a weighted cloth over his ears. In fact, his entire nervous system began to fade as the Templar before him swirled into an odd jumble of flesh and steel. No, not fade. It was…_somewhere else_. An unnatural airiness flooded through his bones as he felt himself in two different atmospheres at one time, a feeling not easily grasped in the conscious mind.

He gasped desperately for air when he felt his lungs join the rest of his organs in transport. What was going on? Had his time finally run out? Was it finally the end? A jolt of terror crashed through his swollen limbs as he lashed out for the remainder of his body to remain where it was.

His mission was not over! He could not disconnect now, else all of his efforts would be in vain.

"_Shabah_…" he whispered, straining to find his voice, which was now drifting into the other consciousness that he was trying so hard to escape.

"Stop fighting it," he heard the familiar withered voice instruct him with looping pitch. "It's not what you think."

_ Altair, please. Just try to relax. This could be fatal if your brain becomes hyperactive._

An escalating numbness reverberated up and down his veins as he listened intently to that voice. It echoed somewhere out of reach, yet so close to his ears that he could _feel_ its cold breath tease his warping flesh. And he knew it. God, did he know it. Almost instantly, his body submitted itself to what he knew now was a neural transport. He was being moved, not _removed_.

_ There you go. You're doing great. Just listen to the sound of my voice…_

And then, a whiteness, warm and blatant like the light of a rising sun. It squirmed beneath his heartbeat and tugged him through a tunnel of owned numbers. His brain twisted through alleyways and skylines, coding and scripts, until…

It collided with a boiling, venomous intruder to his subconscious.

_Damn it! Firewalls failing! They've hacked his br- Altair! Alt-_


	25. XXV: UBISOFT

**Note** ~ Oh my gosh! Giant chapter of DOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM! You can blame the Appleseed soundtrack for the craziness of this here yearbook meeting of words, my friends. I have it in my mind to commit myself to the nearest asylum for producing such things, but then I wouldn't be able to eat as many Oreos. And that would truly be a shame.

I'm not going to respond to your reviews one by one this time around because my response applies to all. First of all, THANK YOU so much for taking the time to review! Secondly, I sincerely hope I can remedy all of the confusion, but I feel as though I am utterly lacking in the 'fix everyone's confusion' department. If you wish to pelt me with something, I will accept anything but spiked pythons. And THIRDLY, there are TWO sets of behind the scenes groups speaking in italics. One is directly corresponding with Altair. The second, with Sarah. This chapter should help with distinguishing between the two. Also, 'Dunney' is pronounced 'Doo-nee' and 'Faruq' is spoken as 'Faw-rook'.

Thanks again for reading! If you didn't get the muffin I sent to you before, it should be arriving from the sky soon enough. :)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-_  
_

_~Four days earlier~_

"All for the sake of science, eh?"

Rorrick grinned mischievously at his red-headed partner. "Don't worry, Dunney. We'll have her back home before we're done. It's not like we're going to kill her or anything."

Dunney sighed as he lay her scantily-clothed frame upon the 'Animus' they had created. It had cost them a year of research and failed attempts to even _begin_ their emergence on the right track. And now that they were here, they had been forced to risk everything. Two previously revered scientists on the run with their precious prototype, constantly trying to convince themselves that they were doing the right thing, that this machine would change the world.

But even with their heavily-cultured minds, the two men could not hope to comprehend what they were getting themselves into. They were criminals now, and both knew that there was no turning back. And now, they were being hunted by a force that neither had known even existed.

So they were fugitives running from an invisible hand…and from their own consciousnesses. And as of a few days ago, they were kidnappers. Rorrick had suggested a 'randomly selected' test subject based on a series of prerequisites, though that was hardly what it turned out to be. The subject had to be young and healthy as a start. He had to be exceptionally familiar with the game, and most importantly, he had to be someone who would not be missed.

It was by sheer chance that they had found Sarah, quietly poised at her console while the rest of her family slept. She had been on the edge of consciousness when they found her, and barely had a chance to scream as she was stripped from the face of everything she had once known. She was 'randomly selected' to aid them, taken from her life so the two men could test their prized prototype.

Dunney stared down at her, pressed limply against the latches of their metal contraption. For the briefest of moments, he felt a heart-wrenching urge to take her home and forget about the whole thing. But all thoughts of backing down were eradicated when he felt Rorrick's reassuring hand on his shoulder. They did not have the time for soul-searching. They had already made their decision.

"We can't stay in this warehouse for more than a month, so we better get this started while we still can," he heard Rorrick say, his voice charred with concern.

Dunney cleared his throat. "I'm still developing an implant to reverse brain deterioration and automatically pull her from the machine is she is killed in there."

"Get it done. That implant will save her life if our systems go haywire."

"Or if we get hacked."

"That shouldn't happen. We've got control of all cells. The only thing we have to worry about is this group who's following us and Sarah's brain rejecting the implant."

Dunney nodded quickly and proceeded to close the clasps of Sarah's restraints, twisting her arms upwards for injections and leveling her skull to prevent fluid disruption. They could not let _anything_ go wrong.

"Right then," Rorrick whispered. "Let's change the world, Dunney."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_ "Hah! Firewalls down. We've got him, whoever he is."_

_ "Good. Time to see what these people are up to."_

_ "Wait."_

_ "What? What's wrong?"_

_ "Rorrick, this man's brain is under tremendous stress."_

_ "That's to be expected-"_

_ "No, not like this. According to these readings, Altair was being transported."_

_ "What? That's impossible! We have control of-"_

_ "No we don't. They do."_

_ "Who is 'they'?"_

_ "I don't know, but whoever they are, they've managed to commandeer the majority of our artificials and functionality codes."_

_ "Well, we have the brain behind Altair now, correct? Alter the system. Send another virus!"_

_ "It's not that simple! If we collapse their system, we lose the whole thing!"_

_ "I don't care, just do it!"_

_ "Listen to yourself! Sarah will die, along with the man to whom this brain belongs! We are not murderers, Rorrick!"_

_ "Well we have to do something, Dunney!"_

_ "…I have an idea."_

_ "Yes?"_

_ "Get me access to her implant. We can use it to warp her consciousness and lull her to a static state. From there, we can begin to terminate the systems one by one, quarantining only essential cells."_

_ "And what of Altair?"_

_ "Im releasing his brain. If they're smart, they'll disconnect him from whatever he's hooked up to before blackout."_

_ "But do you realize what this means? We lose it all! All of our research, gone!"_

_ "It's better than the alternative! I will not be responsible for either of their deaths! This project is just not worth the risks, Rorrick…I'm sorry. When it finally goes quiet, we're pulling her out and taking her home first chance we get."_

_ "But we can't just turn ourselves in! We'll never see the light of day again!"_

_ "Then we run, but only after we destroy this thing. It's caused nothing but grief. Prep her for deactivation. I'm beginning the quarantine now."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"We finally made it…"

I peered around Faruq's shoulder and was greeted by a sight bearing the weight of intense recognition. Masyaf's massive beamed gates stood widely in the rocky sand, sending a ripple of electricity along my flesh. The last time I was here was the first time I had seen Altair, and now I would most likely never see him again. It was within the Assassin fortress' walls that Malik resided, diligently guarding the Piece of Eden.

Suddenly, I felt a knot release itself from my throat. Malik. He was the only other person who knew about my…situation. I had all but forgotten him in the turmoil of trying to return home. I felt my fingers clinch in anticipation. But there was also something else, something long buried and shrouded by tears and tension. My heart was coloring with _hope_, though I was not completely sure why. It just felt so impossibly warm to know that I was not as alone as I had assumed.

"Faruq," I nearly shouted, nudging him slightly with my forearm.

"What is it, _Shabah_?"

"I need to see Malik!"

Faruq seemed surprised by my sudden vigor, and responded by coaxing the horse into a slightly more progressive gait. "How do you know Malik?" he asked, a disturbing fog of suspicion present in his tone.

It had slipped my mind that Faruq believed mine and Altair's meeting to have occurred outside Masyaf's walls. Altair had told him that he simply happened upon me and took it upon himself to aid me in my journey home, a destination that Faruq had no real grasp of.

I raked my brain for an excuse, some understandable explanation. "Umm…Altair told me about him." Wow. Was that the best I could do? I clamped my eyes shut and waited for Faruq's immanent reprisal.

But it never came. He simply nodded and reached to slide his helmet above his head, which was no doubt sodden with sweat. He tucked the metal headpiece beneath his left arm and exhaled deeply as we neared Masyaf's guarded entrance.

When we finally reached it, Faruq brought the steed to an instant halt as we were confronted by a rather confused Assassin.

"I-Is that you, Faruq?" the young Arabic questioned, his features turned in frustration. "Why do you wear-"

"It is a long story," Faruq answered, fairly annoyed. "I do not have time for this confrontation, Brother. I must speak with Malik immediately."

The novice nodded slowly, his reactions significantly delayed as his gaze jolted between Faruq and I. "I will tend to your animal, then," he finally blurted out. "The Grand Master is in his library."

"Thank you, Brother." Faruq said shortly, his feet already planted in the sand.

I stared down at him for half a second before closing my eyes and tumbling off of the horse. Almost instantly, our young Assassin greeter had the horse by the reins and was leading it away from us. I felt an heavy gauntlet grip my arm and nearly fell face-first into the Earth as Faruq yanked me into an urgent sprint.

I struggled to keep up with him as we pushed past civilians and Assassins alike, desperate to reach the fortress at the top of the small cliffside. Hours of horseback riding had left my legs considerably numb, but adrenaline still managed to fuel my muscles as we moved. Faruq's pace surprised me. It was like he had suddenly come to some critical conclusion and was responding to it passionately. It was possible he was just concerned for Altair's life, but it still seemed rather strange.

Before I noticed we had even spanned any distance at all, we were at the stronghold's oppressive iron drop-gate. We slowed to a tense jog as Faruq led me up the twisted stone steps that surrounded the training circle. I took the opportunity to soak in the sight of fresh Assassins sparring or stretching. It all looked so foreign to me now, like I had never seen any of it before in my entire life.

"Just a little further," I heard Faruq mutter as we crossed the fortress' threshold and entered the base of the library. It was a hefty room cloaked in subtle incense and musty parchment, with a handful of elder Assassins sifting through it's many shelves. And directly across from us breathed the gateway to Masyaf's poorly-tended palm garden.

I retrieved my arm from Faruq's grip and stared with dulled fear at the chiseled doorway. It was behind that portal that Altair had confronted Al Mualim, and it was behind that portal now that I would confront Malik.

Faruq let out an exasperated breath as he watched me make a straight path for the garden. "The novice said Malik was in the library," he protested.

I pointed directly ahead of me and continued walking. It was almost as though I knew what I was doing, which was severely uncommon and unheard of, yet on I walked with little regard for Faruq's presence. All my brain would focus on was Malik.

Faruq followed my direction to the tensed back of a figure in the immediate center of the garden. Malik's robes fell loosely over his pursed shoulders as he stood still as death against the delicate breeze. It rustled his hair and sent pixie blossoms through his fingers, but he never exhibited any movement of his own.

By this point, I had decided that something was wrong. This entire situation seemed off. Faruq paused at the edge of the doorway and watched as I continued through the meager grass towards Malik. When I was close enough to touch him, I stopped, feeling an incredibly uneasiness grip the air.

I cleared my throat softly. "M-Malik," I began. "I-"

Before I could continue, he whirled around and met my searching gaze. My heartbeat fluttered a little at his sudden movement and I was utterly startled by the endlessness of his harsh irises staring into me.

"Malik," I tried again when he did not say anything. "Altair's been taken by Templars and-"

"And that is not why you are really here," he finished for me, his voice leaden with something not far from fury.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_ "Oh my God. I don't believe this. We've got him back."_

_ "They must be doing some-"_

_ "Shit! They're doing something, all right. Look here. All minor cells are being reformatted. They're quarantining Sarah's location."_

_ "That must mean they plan on pulling her out sooner than we expected. Most likely a reaction to having access to Altair's neural sequences."_

_ "So you're saying they know what we've been up to and they're trying to flush us out?"_

_ "Precisely. This is not good. Have you locked in on Altair's brain? We need to complete that transport before we run out of time."_

_ "I've got him, but he's under too much stress. We have to wait at least a few minutes."_

_ "We don't have a few minutes!"_

_ "We just might, actually. His consciousness was in dead space before they got a hold of him. That area should be one of the last to be reached by their blackout."_

_ "That still barely leaves us with enough time to reinitiate the neural transport. You'll have to work fast."_

_ "I can do it."_

_ "In the meantime, we're counting on Malik to keep Sarah busy."_

_ "His program is flawless. By the end of their conversation, she should have a better idea of what we're up to."_

_ "I hope you're right."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A careful smirk found its way upon Malik's lips as he observed my incredulous expression. "Hold out your hand, _Shabah_. I want to show you something."

I hesitated. What on Earth was going on here? Why was Malik acting like nothing was wrong? Did he not care that Altair had been captured? It seemed as though we were living in an entirely different dimension, what with the way the breeze attempted to carry my thoughts away towards the cliffs and lift my heavy heart. It was not supposed to be this calm. Malik was supposed to scream and flail his arms and command troops to rescue Altair or kill me on the spot for causing so much trouble. But no. He just stood there, telling me to hold out my hand like he was going to give me a flower.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I nearly shouted. "Did you not hear me? Altair has been-"

Malik's brows crashed together and his mouth bent into a furious frown. "I heard you, _Shabah_. But I don't think _you_ heard _me_. Hold out your hand. We don't have time for you to start defending a shield."

"Defending a shield? What do you mean?"

"Do not worry about Altair. Just hold out your hand and listen to me."

"But I-" I cut myself off, deciding against a time-wasting argument. Maybe he would snap out of this if I just complied, so I held out my hand and watched the master Assassin intently as he reached into his breast pouch. From it he presented an unimpressive silver sphere with geometric etchings and an unearthly glint. I gasped, recognizing it as the Piece of Eden, so renowned for its illusions and godly powers.

"Malik!" I stammered. What was wrong with him? "What are you doing?"

He did not answer. Instead, he dropped the small orb right into the palm of my upturned hand. I flinched and tried to pull my arm back, but he held it fast and locked his fingers around my wrist.

"Now we will be needing _your_ device as well. Hold it directly parallel to the Piece of Eden and the rest will happen on its own."

With this, he released my wrist and took a notable step back. I fumbled with his suggestion in my mind. What the heck was he planning? I had been convinced that I was loosing my mind a day ago, but now I was leaning more towards _Malik_ being the insane one.

Nevertheless, my curiosity got the better of me and I allowed my other hand to plummet into the pocket of my robe, my fingers bumping against the cold leather of my ipod's case. I pulled it out and into view, pausing for a moment to recount Malik's instructions. Hold it parallel to the Piece of Eden. I took one incredibly long breath and outstretched my arm, exposing my device to the sunlight. Instinctively, I slammed my eyelids shut and braced myself for some kind of explosion.

"Open your eyes, _Shabah_," Malik ordered gently from his distance in front of me.

Reluctantly, I complied, though I regretted it as soon as I did. A fiery burst of light engulfed both of my palms and seized into a violent wall of numbers and symbols. Its force burned through my irises and I felt real flames ignite somewhere inside my abdomen, searing through to my flesh.

I cried out an indecipherable stream of pain-struck screams, but my body refused to crumple to ground like it should have. Instead, I remained standing and perfectly still, paralyzed by the white-gold glow that surrounded me. Soon, I began to realize that the fire I felt was not painful, but static and numb. The pain I felt was false, fabricated by a hyperaware reaction. No, this fire was something else.

"Perfect," Malik said calmly. "Now you need to focus, _Shabah_. Remember the numbers that we sent you. Recall the sequence."

Without any further suggestion, my brain immediately procured the numbers he was asking for. They had been branded into my subconscious, after all.

"2.0, 0.3, 2, 3, 000, 2.02, 0," I whispered blandly.

"Focus, _Shabah_."

I stared at the light before me intently, no longer aware of Malik's faded voice. All I could see was the series of lines and dots that stretched before my vision. Morse code.

. . -

- . . .

. .

. . .

. . - .

"Decode it, _Shabah_." I heard someone say.

My eyes seemed like they could never close again as I absorbed the symbols being shown to me. And slowly, pieces of letters began to form in my mind.

2.0 - U

0.3 - B

2 - I

3 - S

000 - O

2.02 - F

0 - T

Then, just like that, it was over. My vision collapsed into darkness and the stream of letters faded to nothing. But they did not leave my mind. Of course I knew that name. A good amount of the world's population knew that name. It did not make any sense whatsoever. Why would someone send it to me in coded Morse code? And more importantly, what did it have to do with me getting home?

And then I heard his voice, a music sweeter than any symphony. I could still see nothing, but I could tell he was moving towards me. My entire body shriveled into numbness until only my dwindled awareness remained. But that was enough.

"Alt-air…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_ "Transport complete. He better move fast. The quarantine is almost in full effect."_

_ "Come on, Altair. Get her out of there."_

_ "Thirty-six seconds."_

_ "Prepare for disconnection…As soon as she's out, he needs to follow."_

_ "Thirty-four seconds."_

_ "Alpha's converged on their position. Where's our team?"_

_ "Dispatched and ready. All checkpoints have been cleared. When Ubisoft gets there, we'll be ready."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

First there were colors. Then, I began to focus on faint outlines, until finally I could see his face. I blinked, hardly believing that it was _his_ muddy eyes that held me. It just didn't make sense, and it had happened far too fast for me to comprehend. All of it had. But somehow, I didn't seem to care at the moment because standing directly in front of me was the Assassin I had convinced myself I would never see again.

"Altair!" I somehow managed to choke out, desperately reaching for him. "I thought you were captured! What is going on here?"

I saw his lips move, forming a silent "I'm sorry" before I felt something I never imagined I would feel. The icy metal of his hidden blade collided with the thumping flesh of my throat, piercing through it and sending my nerves into a frenzy as blood rushed from my veins.

Before I could even begin to react, my consciousness began to crumble, along with my bleeding frame. All this time, I had been saved. Everyone had hurt _for_ me, all in what I assumed to be a vast effort to preserve me. And now here I was, Altair's blade slowly consuming what was left of my life.

"I'm so sorry, _Shabah_," his voice whispered weakly. "It's not what you think."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_"Dunney, what's going on?"_

_ "Security systems have been breached! They found us!"_

_ "No! No, no, no, no, no! Damn it! Pull her out! Pull her out now!"_

_ "I can't! The system's been locked!"_

_ "No!"_

_ "They're coming! Damn it, Rorrick! They have guns!"_

_ "Wait, look! Her implant is reacting!"_

_ "What? I don't believe this. S-She's been killed! The implant is bringing her around!"_

_ "Oh, thank God! Hurry, wipe the data before it's too late! We need to disconnect her IV's and cancel all chemical transfers or she'll go comatose!"_

_ "Rorrick, we can't."_

_ "What do you mean we-Oh no."_

_ "They're here."_


	26. XXVI: Carry Me Home

**Note ~** Holy crap! She's back! Somebody get the shotgun! XD It's been forever, I know! My idiotic decision to take AP English this year was...well, idiotic. I am having to seriously manage my time, which has never been one of my strong points. But anyway, I'm hoping I'll be able to continue this more regularly from here on out. For those of you who even remotely remember this silly little story of mine, I love you with the fire of a thousand suns! Yeah, there are galaxies in my closet. Onwards to majorly delayed review responses!

_FFNaru134 ~ _Thankies for the fave! FINALLY, the next chapter has arrived! ;D *hands cookie*

_3LWood ~ _I am seriously honored that you spent so much time reading this! I really, really appreciate it and I grinned like such a little girl when I read your review. Thank you so much!

_Dolphin2ii _~ Yays! And not exactly...If you're still around these parts, Ubisoft's role will be explained soon enough. ;)

_JowenoftheRogue ~ _Let me just say outright that your avatar is SEXY. Ehem...And you're review was beautiful. Thank you soooooooo much for taking the time to write it. I hope you're still there to read this chapter! xD

_RadiantStarlight_ ~ Thank you so much! And no, I wasn't planning on including Desmond in this montage of peeps...But you know what? Now you've got my brain goin...Keep an eye out. :D

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It is a cold thing to awaken with less than oneself in the air, the dark metallic atmosphere of a lab. Heavy splotches of nausea attached themselves to his sight, blinding him for a handful of bloated minutes. But in his lonely realm of darkness he could still see the blood that stained his blade and fingertips, the blood of she who was now so vulnerable to the truth. It was the blood of codes and coordinates, lost in the overloading circuitry of a suffering prototype.

_"-taïr…ake up…think he's gone into a…don't…"_

Altaïr held on to the voices that wafted in and out of consciousness, determined to pull himself from whatever pit he had fallen into. His eyelids slid groggily apart with no real reward of vision, but the small movement was enough to make a ripple in the voices, a reaction.

Gloved hands touched his face, traced long trails down his arms and legs. Tiny speckles of fluorescent pressed against his eyes and an aching numbness lifted from his limbs. Suddenly, the stinging of independent breath burned in his lungs and set his entire body aflame. His senses came crashing forward, though somewhat dulled by a damaged piece of himself.

Light exploded in his vision and the voices that had been so pale and far away stabbed in his ears like a thousand tiny needles. How long had it been since he had felt so alive, so agonizingly real?_ "Altaïr! You have to breathe!"_ There were new hands on his chest and throat, busy with strange mechanisms and tubes. He tried to do as they instructed; he tried to breathe, but to no avail. Gradually, the lights began to dim back to their dormant cavernous hue, and Altaïr could feel himself sliding back with them.

_"Altaïr, just listen to the sound of my voice. You're going to-"_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I could feel the goosebumps spread across my skin. I could _feel_ them. There was light searing through the thin flesh of my eyelids, but it brought no warmth. This was not death. This was something…_somewhere_ else.

Metal pressed against my bare spine, edged with thin trails of blazing heat that ran all the way down to my ankles. But how was I able to feel so distinctly when I could not bring myself to see or move? And _what_ was that persistent noise?

I reached through my looping consciousness until the rushing of my blood gave way to a chorus of frenzied voices.

"I can't keep this door closed for long, Dunney!"

"Just a little longer! Please, Sarah," the voice became desperate, strained. "Open your eyes."

The synapses in my brain yawned and stretched, simultaneously blinking to life at the sound of that name, _my_ name. My blood became heavy, my heartbeat rapid. But I was too exhausted. Opening my eyes seemed impossible.

The voice rang again, pleading. It was so familiar, like I had heard it countless times before_… _

_"I'm still developing an implant to reverse brain deterioration and automatically pull her from the machine is she is killed in there..." _

_"Oh, don't tell me you're having second thoughts. We've put too much into this to back out now."  
"Yeah, but…Did you hear the news this morning? They're looking for her."_

_"An independent brain? But that would mean…"  
"We have to pull her out before it's too late." _

My eyes flew open as the sound of gunfire enveloped the air. There was a dark, distorted shape looming over me, but all else was just one glaring luminescence. I blinked frantically, trying to focus on something, _anything_.

"The door!" someone shouted from behind me. "Dunney!"

The shape stared down at me for a moment, then ducked out of my sight, leaving only a hazy smear of light in its wake. I tried to make a movement, the smallest that I could think of. If I could just lift my finger a fraction of an inch…No success.

Trapped in my solitary realm of bewilderment, I just barely caught the sound of new voices wafting overhead. A parade of clucking feet simmered down to a halt, signifying the presence of a large group, but only one man spoke.

"I will not waste our time with idle chatter." His voice was resonant with almost cooing authority, like a singing general. "You will surrender yourselves peacefully. This warehouse has been expropriated in all _legal _terms."

Expropriated? Was I really in a warehouse?

"What?" the voice from earlier shrieked. "You can't do that!"

"Doctor Stevv, Doctor Millchase." The shape beside me stiffened. "I will say this once more: Surrender yourselves peacefully."

I squeezed my eyes shut as all sounds were swallowed by the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears. A sudden rush of cold tingled in my head. This was all a dream. All of it. I was sure of it this time. It was one of those dreams within a dream situations. I mean, how much trauma can someone experience in one day? It just wasn't real. I would have smiled with relief had I been able to move; it would all be over soon.

-_Crash!-_

"Now, Dunney!"

A stream of gunshots seemed to spring from the walls, much louder than the firsts. And this time, they actually seemed to have an impact…

"Rorrick!" the looming shape above me cried, voice cracking with terror.

"Hold your fire! Damn it! I said _hold_ _your fire_!"

But the bullets continued to spray around the room for an extra few seconds, whatever kind of room it was. Amidst the shattering glass and exploding barrels, I barely heard the muffled thump of a body colliding with the floor. Its landing was shared by that of countless discarded shells.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was sitting up now, staring lopsidedly at the floor.

"Altaïr…Altaïr, can you hear me?"

A dull beam of gold was shone into each of his eyes. He blinked, trying to focus on the jittering inconsistency of his body's most basic functions.

"No, no, no…" a familiar voice sounded.

"We didn't have a choice. He knew going in to this that he wouldn't come out of it the same, if at all. It's a miracle he's even breathing."

"What's the extent of the neurological damage?"

"I don't know. We won't be able to properly treat him until we've done a thorough scan of his brain, but I don't want to send him into _another_ machine right now. Anyway, he can hear us, and his vision appears to be returning at a steady rate. If we're lucky, maybe he got away with some minor longterm memory loss."

"Luck is seldom a breeze that blows our way."

"Well let's hope the old girl is feeling generous today. What's the status on the team?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You killed him!" the shape shrieked. "You bastards! H-He's dead! Oh God, Rorrick!"

"Stay where you are, Doctor Millchase. I will not repeat myself a third time. Step away from that machine."

I cringed inwardly. When would I learn? Why did _everything_ have to seem so damned real? The shape returned to my vision, staring down at me intently. I wanted to say something, to ask where I was, what day it was, where Altair was…But I would get no such opportunity.

"I'm so sorry," I heard the shape whisper.

"What are you doing? I said step away from the-"

Faintly, I picked up on the almost squealing sound of computer wheezing out its last breath. Gradually, the noise elevated until it was throbbing against my eardrum like the climax of a violent orchestra. Every cell in my body seemed to sink, gravitating towards whatever it was I was lying atop of. My lungs seized up as I tried to scream. Somebody needed to tell me what was going on, fast.

"Damn it! We didn't want to do this the hard way, Millchase! Restrain him!"

The parade of bootsteps from earlier hustled closer to me until there was not one, but several shapes looming above my head. My vision was still hazy, but I could just make out thin outlines of what looked like reinforced police helmets. They converged around the original silhouette with choppy, urgent movements, yanking him from my sight.

"What has he done to the system?" the singing general demanded.

Above the bustle of moving bodies sprang forth a meager, croaking voice. "Sir, he's wiped all system data!"

A throaty huff of exasperation floated through the stale air. "I want that data recovered! NOW! We didn't come here just to pick up a pesky scientist! Damn it! Take them to the trucks! I want our technicians in here asap!

Grated velcro scraped against my thigh, which I soon noticed was bare, as a sizable hand encased it. Another hand accompanied the first, pressing beneath the middle of my back until I felt myself heaved into a pair of phantom arms. The absence of uniform pressure against my spine made it seem as though I weighed nothing in the arms of the shape that now held me. Anything connecting me to my previous location clung to me like seaweed as I was pulled further and further away. Eventually, it snapped. I gagged as I felt foreign paraphernalia yanking out of my skin and falling back to its source. I was free, but from what? And why?

Amidst the inky confusion and rushing streaks of noise, there was nothing loud enough to distract me from a clear recollection of my own demise. I had been killed, right? _Right_? But then…maybe I hadn't. Maybe Altair had never existed. I wanted so badly to rip this unforgiving world to shreds. I had so many questions and there seemed to be no place left to look for answers. It was so unfair! And now some person I didn't even know was carrying me somewhere in some warehouse under the command of someman.

And that's when it hit me. I could feel my bare skin against every armored piece of my carrier's chest and arms. I was totally _bare_. The item that had stalked my presence for the past_ millennia_ was gone. My ipod was gone. Had I been able to move, I might have panicked, or at least made some motion to cover myself in my indecent state. But I was a rag-doll, completely at the mercy of my preposterous situation.

Suddenly, a massive sheet of light ruptured my nebulous sphere of sight, blinding me with painful accuracy. The putrid stench of gasoline tingled in my nostrils, coupled with the chugging of an industrial engine. Were we…_outside_?

"Open up," my carrier ordered hoarsely.

"Oh come on," someone mocked. "She doesn't look _that_ heavy."

"It's not her. I've carried books heavier than this. It's the captain. He's ordered all technicians into the lab. Apparently one of the scientists wiped the project memory on the machine."

"What? Oh shit…"

"Tell me about it. We're gonna be here for the long haul."

"Hold on. That's my radio…Burns here. Yeah, we've got her…Roger that."

"Was that him?"

"Little girly here needs to get loaded immediately."

"That's what I've been sayin'!"

"Alright, alright. I'll open the- guh!"

My carrier jumped backwards, clutching me tightly to his chest. "H-Hey! Don't come near me! You'll hurt the girl!"

A flower of bittersweet joy bloomed in my stomach. Was I being saved? Or was this something else? Honestly enough, I found myself slipping into a placid mindset, a sort of neutral acceptance of whatever was going on. I was done trying to figure it out…at least for the moment. The feeling of nothing around me actually existing didn't contribute to my concern much either. I felt utterly transparent.

A cloud of organic shadow shrouded the daylight that burned my eyes. Someone was standing beside my carrier, noticed too late by his fearful senses. He let out a twisting yelp, which was promptly muffled by the hand of his attacker, and released his death grip on my bare frame. But rather than falling to the ground as I was expecting, I was caught by a smoother, less armored pair of arms.

"Get that door open!" someone yelled.

"Somebody get these bodies in the truck!" my new carrier ordered, a woman by the trilling tone of her voice.

The brightness was quashed and the temperature seemed to dissipate as I was moved into what I assumed to be the back of a transport truck. Why in the world was I suddenly so damn important? For a moment, I considered how much nicer it would be to be dead, sleeping peacefully in an undisturbed slumber…But to die by Altair's hand, that was something else entirely, something far from peaceful.

"..rah….ear me?"

I snapped out of my pondering and blinked at the faceless voice above my head.

"Can you hear me, Sarah?" she asked again.

I blinked again, unable to do anything else, but the small movement seemed to be enough.

"We're here to help you, okay? But in order to do that we need to calm down."

Calm down? What was she talking about? I was plenty calm.

A man's voice echoed against the murky walls of the truck's interior. "I think she might be in shock."

"Thanks, Sherlock."

"I'm just sayin'. No amount of sweet talking is gonna help us here. We need to be creative."

My carrier sighed. "Sarah," she began urgently. "I know you're scared and probably really damn confused, but _please_ just try to work with me here. Breathe as deeply as you can. Try to imagine a serene field of…"

"Lavender. With fluffy bunny rabbits tickling against your feet."

"Yeah. Adorable little white rabbits."

A gloved hand brushed a tousle of hair from my face. For the first time since…since all of this began, I felt my lungs release in a series of breaths as deep as the sea. I did as I was told, imaging myself in a flourishing land of rabbits and lavender, and slowly became aware of exactly how stressed I really was.

"It's working! Her veins are subsiding."

"Check her heart rate."

The hand on my face lowered to my chest, pressing against it gently to pick up on the thump of my slowing heart. "Oh thank God. Get that syringe ready."

Sluggishly, the prick of a needle in my arm coaxed me away from my flowering field. My brain relaxed into a totally silent realm of sedation and…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"We just got an update from the team. They've commandeered the transport. Sarah's on her way."

"Really? She's safe? Oh my God. I can't believe it."

"Now all we have left is to pray that they get here safely."

"Altair. Altair, do you remember Sarah?"

The light was shone in his eyes again. He blinked. Sarah…Shabah…His eyes widened. "Shabah!" he croaked.

"We have her, Altair. She's safe." A reassuring hand pressed against his shoulder. "You did well."


	27. XXVII: Familiarity

**Note ~ ** I don't have much to say except that this chapter SHOULD make you slightly less confused. Or maybe it'll just bore you out of your socks. Perhaps that is my ambition after all. Maybe I just want to steal all of your socks. xD Anyway, for any Mass Effect fans, there is a moment in here that should resemble a scene we are all quite fond of. Cough cough...Liara: Oh yes! I know Ilos! Blah blah blah ILOS! Ohhh...*suddenly dizzy* Shepard: Liara, shouldn't you go see Dr. Chakwas? Tee hee hee. As always, thank you for reading!

_TheHaloFreak_ ~ WELL, Miss QueenOfTheUniverse! xD This one's a bit longer, so there ya go! Thanks for the review! And uhh...those bunnies are all in your head.

_FFNaru134 ~_ Thanks for the review! Speaking of updating though, where's the next dang chapter of COLLiSiON? xD I'm kiddin. Take your time. Just don't make me call the fanfiction police for waiting a ridiculously long time to update. We all know that I've never done THAT before.

_Dolphin2ii ~ _Not as happy as I am to see you still here! :D And I just have to say that every time I read your name, I read it as Doll-fee-nee, which totally reminds me of the adorable little dolphin thing in Pangya. Yup. Totally off-topic, but I just had to say it.

_AssassinsRogueAngel_ ~ Ah! Name change! I'm glad I caught it before writing this. xD And I sincerely hope that you do have one of those moments! Or at least, something remotely similar. I've actually never seen Castle, but I've heard awesome things about it. I only know him from Firefly and ODST. For me, Firefly is the only show I watch religiously. ;) Either way though, he's just downright sexy.

_Alexe-audron_ ~ Thank you so much for the review! And I would absolutely LOVE it if you would be willing to help me with translations, for both old and newer chapters. I think it's so neat that you know it! :D So yeah, if that would be cool with you, just send me PM with how that might work with your schedule and whatnot and we can totally do that! Thank you!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A note, low and undulant, eclipsed into a melody against my ears. Torpid as I may have felt, no amount of fatigue could keep me detached from it - music. It was scratched and indistinct, wafting through the air as though channeled by an ancient radio, but it was there. I opened my eyes to narrow slits, surprisingly mellowed by the wavering tune.

"Hey! Looks like she's waking up."

A mop of blonde hair moved in my sight and stared down at me. I opened my eyes a little further, curious.

"Hey there, science experiment! Glad to see you conscious!"

I blinked at the voice, recognizing it as belonging to the woman who had carried me into…a transport truck. I swallowed, straining to speak.

"W-Where…-ere am I?" I was surprised by how strangled my own voice sounded. It seemed like centuries had passed sense I had used it.

Another familiar voice rang out above the music in the air. "Good God, she sounds terrible. What were they feeding her back there?"

"Hey, the girl asked us a question!" the blonde woman shook her head. "Sorry, hun. We were counting on you being confused. Come on, let me help you up."

I felt her hands on my back, suddenly aware that I was no longer unclothed. She lifted me up to a sitting position on what I deduced to be a makeshift hospital cot. It squeaked angrily as the vehicle we were in coasted over grated bumps and curves. I pressed my hand against my forehead, beginning to feel sick to my stomach. Still, it was an unfathomable relief to feel so tangible again.

"Whoa there, girly. Are you hungry?" the man on my right asked, holding his hands out cautiously.

I groaned meekly. The last thing I wanted was food. I was more concerned with answers. The woman's offer was so bright in my mind that I could hardly focus on anything else. Answers. I half-smiled just thinking about them. But…what if the answers I got were not what I wanted to hear? What if they were terrible, tragic, unbelievable? What if they were not answers at all?

"So let's start from the top," I heard the woman say. "You asked where you were."

I looked up at her groggily, seeing her face for the first time in the silhouetted light of the truck. Her eyes were dark, though indefinable in the shadows, and slanted upwards like a cat's. Almost shaggy lemon hair fell around her tanned cheeks and her wide lips were pulled into a thoughtful frown. She took my silence as grounds to continue, propping one hand on my knee as she spoke.

"Right now, you're in a transport vehicle, which is on its way to our headquarters."

"In short, we rescued you, girly," the man said shortly. I turned to look at him but his face was almost completely shrouded in grey. All I could make out was a youthful complexion of tinted ivory on his chin. It was odd to see someone so pale after being around Zafar and Faruq…I swallowed the memories that threatened to ripple in my throat. I didn't even know that they had actually existed.

"R-Rescued from what? And w-who are you?" I asked hoarsely.

"From _whom_ would be a more appropriate way to phrase it," the woman snorted. "Sarah, you…I don't even know how to say this. You were kidnapped two weeks ago."

I stared at her emptily, unsure how to react. Kidnapped? That was ridiculous. What did that have to do with going back in time with someone who did not even…I stopped myself short, suddenly remembering what Malik had shown me.

"Ubisoft," I blurted out, unaware of its actual significance. I gazed up at the blonde woman, searching for some kind of reaction.

She smiled. "So you really did get our message. But no, it wasn't Ubisoft who kidnapped you. It was a pair of scientists."

"Surprisingly enough," the man interrupted. "They did it all on their own."

"Apparently, these two guys used to work for Ubisoft, helped 'em design their prized assassin game," the blonde continued. "Which is what started this whole conflict. God, it's a mess." She paused. "This is going to sound crazy to you, Sarah, and I'm sure that you really don't know what to believe right now but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

There was so much I wanted to ask. Who were these people? How did they know my name? What _conflict_? But I kept my tongue still, opting to nod in response.

"Okay," she sighed. "We are Assassins."

She paused for a moment, giving me a chance to mull over her statement. "Assassins?" I croaked. "I-I don't understand…Is this some kind of joke?"

"I assure you it is not. Three years ago, one of our own left the confines of our order and appealed to the budding designers in Ubisoft. He had an idea unlike any other in the entertainment industry, a game that would follow the life of an Assassin from the Crusades. It would be a beauteous hybrid of history, gore, and morality. But it was so much more than that. Everything about that game is a modified parallel of our own lives as Assassins. There are encoded scripts in its databanks detailing information about our hideouts, our activity, our numbers. Valuable information that should never be released to the public on any grounds. We are an organization of discretion." She exhaled passionately. "We were betrayed."

My head burned with the impact of her words. "B-But what does that have to do with kidnapping?" I asked warily. "Are you going to take me home?"

"One question at a time, girly," the man said calmly. "Y'see, while we were figuring out what to do about the game's widespread influence, our higher-ups got wind of some whacked out experiments being conducted behind Ubisoft walls. The scientists that took you thought they could create their own machine similar to the Animus, just like the one that 'Abstergo' has. They wanted to _enhance_ the gaming experience, make it more profound. Thing was though, they're big dreams hinged upon human experimentation, which Ubisoft couldn't legally support. So when the crazy duo decided that they were going to do it anyway, they were forced to run from the company and set up shop in scattered warehouses across the states."

"That's where you come in." The woman released her hold on my knee to rub the back of her neck. "They were looking for a test subject, someone to use for their prototype 'Animus,' and you just happened to fit the bill. Apparently, they found you on their way to the warehouse you were just in."

"So...I was kidnapped to be a test subject? I-Is my family okay?" I looked down at my hands, startled to see them shaking. Were these really the answers I wanted?

"As far as we know, yeah. Listen, Sarah, I think this whole thing is way too complicated for us to explain in one car ride, and I don't even think we're qualified to attempt it. The main thing is you're gonna be okay now."

"But how do you even know all this stuff?" I snapped. "Are you gonna take me back to my family? A-Are they looking for me? Who broke into the warehouse and tried to run off with me? A-And if I was in some kind of ridiculous machine all this time, then why- Ohh…" A swirling dizziness tickled my head and my vision threatened to fade, pulsating with my rapid heartbeat.

"Relax, girly," I heard the man caution. "You're not doing anyone any favors overexerting yourself like that."

"He's right. I know it's hard to wrap your head around right now, but we're telling you the truth."

I blinked at the jumping metal around me. There was one question worming its way through the crowds of my mind, like an urgent mother pushing to get to the train doors before they open. Or better yet, pushing to see if they would open at all.

"Where is Altair?" I breathed out. It was a foolish question, to be sure, but it had blugeoned its way past my lips regardless.

The blonde woman only stared, seemingly at a loss for words. She shot a glance at her companion, then to the floor, then down to her lap; anywhere but at me, really. Her silence left me speculating, fearing the worst. Maybe she pitied me, knew that Altair had not actually existed and did not quite know how to break it to me. I decided to save her the trouble.

"It's okay," I whispered, though my voice must have betrayed how I really felt because she immediately locked her gaze with mine. I swallowed my daydreams and decided to focus on what mattered. I needed to stop worrying about a world that no longer existed. It was time to let go and focus on what was happening in the present. I needed to focus on answers, no matter how unbelievable they were. "I know none of it really exis-"

"No," she interrupted. "No, you're wrong. Sarah, how do you think we knew where to find you? How do you think Malik knew to give you that message?"

"What? What do you mean?" I stammered. "That message was from you?"

The man laughed bitterly. "Haven't you been listening? We were behind the whole thing!"

I glared at him. "What?"

"Not the _whole_ thing," the blonde cut in. "As we said, it was the scientists who kidnapped you. But we couldn't let them build their Animus. We needed to stop them from finding the links to our database. So…we had to act fast."

"But if you knew I had been kidnapped, why-"

"We didn't. No one had any idea that they had themselves an actual test subject, much less where they had taken you. Our first priority was stopping Ubisoft before their industry got too out of hand, and that included stopping these scientists. So we had to gather the best in our ranks. We had to build our own Animus."

I pressed a hand unconsciously against my heart, feeling it race against my palm. "So what does that have to…do with Altair?" I already knew the answer. Well, partially anyway. And it was like the world had stopped moving for a moment, holding its breath in anticipation to the woman's response.

"Altair is…not who you think he is, Sarah."

"Don't be so sure," the man scoffed.

"But he's alive?" I nearly shouted. I could hardly believe it. If Altair was actually alive, how come no one had ever known who he was before now? And then I remembered. 'We are an organization of discretion.' Slowly, it all began to make sense.

"Yes, and no," the woman said, breaking my chain of revelation. "Altair is and always has been an Assassin, like us, but we are much different from the Assassins that you are so familiar with. Consider for a minute that the same distinction goes for Altair. He is not, nor has he ever been, the Altair that so many people claim to know so well."

I stared at her incredulously, taking in unsteady breaths, like I had forgotten what oxygen was entirely. "Then what is he? I saw him for myself. He _was_ the Altair I know."

"But was he really?" she whispered, averting her eyes to the front of the vehicle.

Silence fell over us, leaving only the static of the radio's tune to create a melding ambience with the truck's chugging engine. I closed my eyes, remembering. Why did I care so much about whether or not Altair was the same person I knew? Did I even know him at all? She had told me that it had all really happened, that Altair existed, that he had been in an 'Animus' just as I had. But why Altair? And if the game was such a drastically different parallel to the real Assassins, why not change his name? What if his name _was_ different?

"I really think you should…meet him," the blonde woman suggested, breaking the silence.

"What?" I choked. "But if he's so different, will he even recognize me?" The words were coming before I had a chance to hold them back. "Is his name even Altair? Is he so different that all the habits that I had become so familiar with aren't real? How would he be able to manage such a shift of personality if he was sentient inside of your machine? Wouldn't he just act the way he was? Why was he so damn similar to the Altair in the game!"

I felt a warm palm on my knee, pressing against it reassuringly. I looked up and met the shadowed gaze of the man, my head bursting with frustration. "What?" I snapped.

"Try not to think about it too much, girly. We're only here to help. Whatever you find out, know that the Altair you encountered in the Animus was the very same man that we know ourselves. His personality may have been different, but he had his reasons."

Suddenly, the truck came to a halt. Almost immediately after the engine was cut, the doors to the back were opened and daylight swallowed up my vision. I flung an arm in front of my eyes, but it was too late to stop them from burning in protest.

"Is this her?" I heard someone ask, though all noises seemed to muffle in the sudden onslaught of light.

"Yeah," the man beside me answered. It sounded like he was standing, so I pulled my arm away to observe my surroundings, blinking back the sun with violent efforts.

But I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me, not in the slightest. We were in a parking lot outside of a bank, and we were most definitely _not_ in my hometown. A towering cityscape climbed over and around the financial center, threatening to gobble it up in its reflection. The building itself was massive, constructed to resemble the flagrance of a grasshopper's eye. The sunlight bounced against each of its countless panes, throwing itself back into my eyes as though it was trying to blind me.

I looked down, past the end of the truck, to the tired face of what I assumed to be another Assassin. He beckoned to the blonde woman with his hand, constantly throwing glances about himself. The blonde turned to look at me.

"Come on, Sarah. We're sending you in another vehicle. By the time Ubisoft finds this one, they will be too late."

I swallowed harshly. "I guess there's no sense in arguing, is there?"

She shook her head. "We're only trying to keep you safe."

"Thank you…for explaining so much to me."

"That isn't the half of it, though," she sighed. "But I guess you'll learn the rest when you get there."

I was carried, deemed too weak to walk, to an unsuspecting little car on the sidelines of the parking lot. The sun bore down on my skin, reminding me too clearly of the desert sun in Damascus. It all should have felt like a whole other life…but it didn't. It felt so vivid in my memory. _Altair_ felt so vivid in my memory, but the most vivid feeling of them all was that of his blade in my throat. I cringed. Maybe…maybe he really wasn't who I thought he was. But he had told me he was sorry, like he never really wanted to do it. Then why did he? And how did the Assassins animate Malik the way they claimed? Even after so many answers, I was still confused.

"Are you hungry?" the man from earlier asked.

The blonde woman answered for me. "She'll need something if she's ever gonna get back on her feet. Actually, you'd better get some more rest, don't you think?"

I turned to look at her, noting how much younger she looked in the glaring light of the sun. The man who accompanied her was staring out the window anxiously, almost as though he thought we were being pursued. Maybe we were, but nobody seemed overly concerned with the possibility at the moment.

Some kind of energy bar was handed to me and I opened it in a daze. I was going along with this as though it were almost perfectly normal. Of course, I had done my fair share of freaking out beforehand. Maybe I was getting used to the absurd. I shivered at the thought. No one should ever get used to the absurd. The absurd tears you away from everything you ever knew. It strips you of your identity and hands you a new one on a tenebrous platter.

I felt tears welling up in my chest, but I was too angry to cry. I was angry at the scientists for kidnapping me, angry at the Assassins for not taking me back to my family right away, angry at Altair for not telling me what was going on the whole time we were together. But most of all, I was angry at myself. Why was I more concerned with answers and seeing Altair again than I was with my family, my school, my daily household chores? Where had that all gone?

The cityscape that had seemed so grand and dominant in the parking lot shriveled to a blur of scintillating mirrors as we sped through streets I had never seen in my life. I nibbled on my energy bar distractedly as the car was engulfed in a cautious silence. Everyone seemed to be on the lookout all of a sudden. Or maybe they always had and I was only noticing it now. I leaned my head back on the felted seat, sealing my eyes against the sun.

~.~.~.~.~

I groaned as I felt Faruq's hand nudging my shoulder, coaxing me to consciousness. I tried to brush him away, to tell him that I didn't care that the sun was rising. Only…it wasn't. My eyes flung open as I was confronted with reality. The car. The Assassins. The half-eaten energy bar that lay prostrate in my lap. It was all there, not Faruq, not the mountains or the villages, the Templars or the sand.

"We're here, Sarah," I heard the blonde woman say.

I looked through the window but there was only darkness. "Where is here?"

"You'll see." She smiled and took hold of my arm. "We're going to see if you can walk now, but don't let go of me, okay?"

I nodded sleepily and let her help me out of the car, taking the chance to get another look at our environment. But just as before, I could see only darkness, save for a single fluorescent a few feet from where we were standing. It glowed cavernously against what looked like concrete. Everything was concrete, or so it appeared. I glanced back at the direction from whence I assumed we came but there was nothing there either.

"Come on," the woman beckoned, urging me to walk towards the solitary light in front of us.

The other Assassins stayed behind, scouting around the area or something. I felt lighter than usual, like my head was barely there, but I was able to stand on my feet again. When we were practically right up against the wall, I saw that the little bluish light was not just some ordinary scone. Rather, it was some kind of device, the like of which I had never seen before. But did that surprise me? I had never imagined 'Animuses' to be possible before either.

The Assassin pressed the tip of her ring finger against it, and after a few seconds, the single light bloomed into a curved threshold luminescence. There was the sound of oxygen giving way, like some kind of decompression, and the concrete section now outlined by blue slid apart with heavy precision. Behind it was a hallway to yet another portal, only this one looked to be padded with some dull grey material. The hallway itself was scarcely lit. There were only a few lights in the walls that flickered unfaithfully as we walked past.

When we reached the padded door, the woman turned to me, one hand already propped against the handle. "Are you ready?"

I stared at her, confused. "I really think I've seen everything, now," I said blankly. "Go ahead."

"Not quite everything, Sarah. Not my a long shot."

"Aren't you going to turn the handle?" I asked when she made no effort to move.

"It's not for turning. It's for identifying."

I sighed. Of course the handle was not for turning. I should have been surprised to see all of this underground technology, shocked and amazed at such things, but none of it mattered to me. In fact, I was not entirely sure that I thought it real.

Without another moment's notice, the door before us opened and there on the other side of it was another hallway. But this one was different. It was long and looming, with yet another door at its base. What was with these people and hallways? I was about to press on to the end again when I was stopped by my crutch. She looked at me intently, shaking her head.

"We don't go any farther than this."

"What?" I choked. "W-Well, what's at the end of this hall? And why can't you come with me?"

She stared at me for a moment, considering. "This is where it is," she finally said. "This is where the Animus is."

My gaze flew to the end of the hall, to the humming metal door that stared so mysteriously. "Why do I have to-"

"Just try to trust us," she interrupted. "And believe me when I tell you there isn't a soul in this place who hasn't worked to get you here. Now go on."

She pushed my back gingerly, waited for me to get through the threshold of the padded door, and clicked it shut behind me. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, I was alone. I swallowed my swarming thoughts and put a hand against the wall for support as I made my trek down the corridor. I did not even know why I was doing it. Sure, there seemed to be no turning back and all that, but I had to admit that a part of me was curious. I wanted to know what truly lay at the end of this hallway, the very same one that…that Altair must have walked down before he entered the machine.

After what felt like only seconds, I reached the new doorway. To my surprise, it responded immediately to my approach as a light pooled in its base and reached across its arch like water. The door breathed one quick short of life and opened, opened and opened and opened and-

"Altair!" I screamed, nearly toppling over my own feet as I bolted for his lopsided frame.


End file.
